Bird Of The Sea
by TheAssassinGame
Summary: Two paths collide, one a young assassin from England, hunting the traitor, Duncan Walpole, the other, the disguised daughter of the infamous Blackbeard. They find a friend in the notorious Edward Kenway and their dangerous lives worsen as they fight for gold, freedom and each other.
1. The Battle At Sea

So new story! Ayyy! Technically, I shouldn't be prioritising this but I love writing so much I'd much rather do it than my course work so bad me, but at least you all get something out of it! So this is a fresh start now, leaving the Auditores behind, completely bypassing AC 3 so sorry if you were expecting/hoping for that one, I just didn't really feel there was much to work with in the story :/ but anyhoo, here you are and apologies in advance if it takes weeks to get a chapter out, I do honestly try to balance work and writing but I tend to do for what I prefer to do (not a good habit to get into!) That's it for now, see you again soonish!

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><p><em>Cape Bonavista, June 1715<em>

The ship rocked dangerously as the rain thundered around them. The crew scrambled about the deck, attempting the secure the rigging that threatened to pull mast and all into the writhing depths of the ocean. Thomas snarled as the ropes, saturated in rain and sea water, slipped out of his hands yet again.

Beside them, an enemy ship alighted with cannon fire, their crew racing against their opponents as to who could fire, reload, and fire again the quickest.

Heavy shots thundered into the ship, assisted by the brutal storm. Debris, scattered by the assault, fell like hail stones on the crew, some slicing into them as if it were swords sent from the heavens. It wasn't just the ship and the storm the crew were fighting, it was their fear.

"Hold, men!" The captain roared over the noise. "Today will not be the day we-"

Another dose of cannon fire struck the ship and the captain was lost in the flurry. As the smoke cleared, all who could, searched for their only hope of survival. But that hope was dead.

As the salty spray bit at his face and the wind whipped at his hair, Thomas ducked from the cannon fire, watching a sailor beside him crash through the deck, his still carcass buried beneath the cannonball. But, he didn't bat an eyelid. He'd seen worse.

'I'd rather be facing one hundred British soldiers than spend another minute on this rotten tub,' the assassin thought as he resumed his work and tugged on the rope, tightening it. Thomas wasn't afraid. He was just inconvenienced.

He glanced around, noting the expressions of the surviving crew members. Lit up with panic and abject terror, they scrambled about the ship, hearts thudding as loud as the storm and the war that surrounded them. Thomas looked on with a calm disposition. While sea battles were relatively new to him, violence, war and bloodshed was not.

Lighting flashed, illuminating the scene, temporarily blinding the men as they ran about, knowing any step could be their last. Heavy shot and thunder took turns in deafening the crew, their senses dulling as the storm and the battle worked together to weaken the forces. The crew stumbled about, half attempting to save the ship, all attempting to save themselves. It was up to fate whether they lived or died and it seemed fate looked upon them cruelly that night, as many fell to either the assault of the enemy or the onslaught of the storm.

He turned to see the man he'd been following, Duncan Walpole, step onto a beam that jutted out from the side of the ship, ominously facing the enemy ship. Their fleet, mainly gunboats, chased down the ship. And Thomas watched on as their opponent sunk every last one.

Thomas' attention was taken back to the cloaked figure ready to board the ship, his weapon drawn. Walpole was an assassin from the English order, as was Thomas, but for some time, suspicions had arose of Walpole's loyalty. As he set to sail to Havana, Thomas was ordered to follow him and report back on his findings, posing as just another crew member.

"Look out!" A voice cried as a flurry of heavy shot sliced through the remaining ship, splitting it down the middle.

With a mournful creak, the ship shuddered, collapsing. Screams pierced the air as some sailors jumped, some fell, into the sea, swiftly followed by the ship itself. Thomas tumbled down into the fathoming depths and a moment of panic shot through him.

Which way was up?

It was so calm in the silence, the roar of the storm and the thundering gunshot were so distant here. Thomas watched the still forms float around him, giving no indication as to which way the surface or the sea bed were. He breathed out, praying this wasn't wasting valuable breath, and watched the bubbles climb up to the surface, showing him the way to go. He kicked his legs, pulling his body through the dark waters until he burst to the surface.

Thomas was greeted by the crackle of fire and the rumble of the storm, corpses floating around him. He threw himself into a chunk of wood, pulling his body up onto his as he panted, breathlessly trying to hang onto life. He looked up, risking a look at the enemy ship.

Two figures faced each other, panicked crew members racing around. One was a rugged looking sailor, the other was Walpole.

Suddenly, the ship exploded, the figures thrown like ragdolls into the sea. As Thomas lay there, he made a mental note to report of the death of Duncan Walpole, darkness overcoming him, and silence following.


	2. 2 The Adventure Has Begun

Thomas blinked, surprised he had survived. Sunlight covered the island, drying his saturated clothes as the young assassin, disguised as a sailor, still clung to the bit of wreckage. Tossing it to the side, he breathed out, a faint laugh leaving his lips as the unbelief of his survival continued to reason with his mind.

The ordeal over, he wearily climbed to his feet. He checked his arms and legs, finding nothing but minor scratches. Satisfied he wasn't at risk from dying by a major wound, he stood up straight, stretched and looked around.

Was he the only survivor?

Then, a strange laughter echoed through the air, joining the cry of the gulls and the gentle crash of the waves.

On unsteady feet, he followed the sound. He crouched in the shrubbery, watching the prone form of the rugged sailor lie on his back, gazing up at the sky. As the assassin dragged himself along the beach, Thomas growled under his breath, his hidden blade springing out.

"Was it good for you as well?" The rough looking sailor joked, breathless laughter following.

"Havana..." Walpole gasped. "I must get to Havana."

"Well, I'll just build us another ship, will I?" The sailor said sarcastically, tilting his head as he lay still.

"I can pay you..." Walpole insisted, his voice gravelly. "Isn't that the sound you pirates like best? One hundred escudos."

The sailor, or rather, the pirate didn't answer, instead sat up, snatching up the bottle beside him. He raised to his mouth, then frowned, checking its contents. Finding it empty, he threw it away.

"Keep talking."

"Will you or won't you!" Walpole snarled, still lying on his side.

The pirate stood and stepped towards the assassin, looming over him, his shadow darkening Walpole's form.

"You don't have that gold on you now, do you?" He asked ominously, already knowing the answer.

Walpole rolled over, pistol in hand, jumping to his feet as the pirate staggered back, landing heavily on the floor. Now at an advantage, Walpole stood before the pirate, pointing the pistol at him, the defenceless man holding up his hands in surrender.

"Bloody fucking pirates!" Walpole spat and pulled the trigger.

The pirate flinched, as did Thomas, but the pistol merely clicked uselessly.

The pirate grinned.

Walpole tossed the gun to the floor and stepped back, turning and running away. His expression wasn't clear, whether he was afraid or frustrated, Thomas couldn't tell.

The pirate laughed, standing back up again.

"I'm onto you, Sneaksby!" He called, racing after him.

Thomas followed, keeping his distance. He blinked, the scenery becoming obscured as he focused on the two characters. As expected, Walpole was illuminated in a red form; an enemy and his target. However, the pirate was glowing blue, symbolising a bystander, or, an ally.

Curious.

Thomas ran on, ducking through the tropical foliage, constantly hidden as he stalked the t two men. An assassin chasing a pirate chasing an assassin. This was some day.

At the sound of gunshot, he picked up his pace, careful not to be seen by either man.

He watched the Walpole limp and run across the land below, the pirate hot in pursuit. Thomas crept along the small cliff, following the pirate that raced ahead. As he dove down to the ground below, Thomas stopped and watched as he stormed up to the traitorous assassin. He drew his swords, striking the assassin and Walpole barely knew what hit him. The pirate moved instinctively, twisting his wrists as he struck, slicing the assassin as he tried to defend himself, to no avail.

Within seconds, Walpole was dead.

The pirate sheathed his weapons and then took hold of the corpse's collar, dragging him away from the clearing. Thomas leaned forward, crouched in bushes above, in an attempt to get a better view.

Finally, Walpole was dead. He had always imagined it would be by his hand, instead of this idiot. He would have returned to England having saved the Brotherhood from a traitor, maybe go up the ranks, earn a promotion. But they wouldn't know any difference, he could still claim Walpole's assassination, even if in reality it was a scumbag pirate that killed him.

As Thomas dreamt on, his feet neared the edge, the ground crumbled and gave way. With a yell, Thomas fell, tumbling down onto the hard land below.

"What do you think you're doing, lad?" The pirate threatened, dropping the body, resting his hands on his swords.

"I'm not here to hurt you, don't worry." Thomas managed, scrambling to his feet, holding his side.

"Good, it wouldn't be wise if you did." He said, relaxing.

'I doubt that,' the assassin thought.

"Do you need a hand?" Thomas offered as the pirate resumed his chore..

The pirate gave an obscure look but shrugged.

"Sure, grab his feet."

The young assassin did so, helping the pirate take the body into the shade, a trail of blood marking their way.

"I have to say, lad, you don't seemed very fazed by the body." The pirate remarked, letting out a heavy breath as he shifted the corpses weight.

"I've seen worse."

'I've done worse,' Thomas thought.

"What's your name, lad?" The pirate asked.

"Thomas Young. Yourself?"

"Edward Kenway. You sound like you have some interesting stories, Thomas. I'd like to hear them some day."

Kenway dropped the body and searched through Walpole's satchel, tugging it from his waist band.

"What's this?" He asked, holding up a clear, glass cube.

Thomas shrugged.

He pocketed it, recognising it as a treasure of some sort, and resumed his search. He pulled out a letter, crouched beside the corpse and read it silently.

"What does it say?" Thomas asked.

"Take a look yourself." Kenway said, passing it over his shoulder.

'Mr Duncan Walpole,' the letter opened, 'I accept your most generous offer and await your arrival with eagerness. If you truly possess the information we desire, we have the means to reward you handsomely. Though I will not know your face by sight, I believe I can recognise the costume made infamous by your secret Order. Therefore, come to Havana in haste. And trust that you shall be welcomed as a brother. Your most humble servant, Governor Laureano Torres y Ayala.'

"The bastard!" Thomas exclaimed, scrunching the letter up in his hand. "He was going to sell us out! The Order needs to- Kenway?"

Thomas turned to find himself alone.

"Er, Kenway?"

The pirate emerged from the shrubs, clothed in the deceased assassin's attire.

"What are you doing?" Thomas frowned.

"If there's going to be a bit of coin up for the taking, then it's going to be mine, mate."

"They're expecting information."

"I'm a good liar."

Thomas sighed. He may as well go and pose as Walpole. Kenway knew nothing of the British Order, that much was clear. He was just a greedy pirate, in it for the gold. In fact, if they believed he truly was Walpole, assuming Kenway was right in saying he was good liar, this would put the assassins at an advantage.

Kenway flipped up the hood and flashed the young man a grin.

"Well, you coming?"

"I'll come to Havana, but not to see Torres."

"Fair enough." Kenway tilted his head in the corpse's direction. "Mr Walpole... let's collect your reward."

The pirate and the assassin made their way towards the shore, leaping among the foilage and climbing up the trees. As they made their way to the beach, Thomas glanced over at Kenway. He was a curious man. Although he held the rough exterior of a pirate, thirsty for gold and battle, there was something about him that wasn't clear. Something strange, mysterious.

When the shore came into view, they jumped down, greeted by red uniformed soldiers, swords drawn. With a shout, they began to run at the two, cutlasses glinting in the midday sun.

Kenway drew his swords as Thomas flicked his wrists, the blades darting out.

"Let's see what you can do, lad." The pirate gave a wicked grin.

As Kenway barrelled head first towards them, Thomas took a more artistic approach, racing up along higher platforms and springing down below, slicing his blade through the soldier's backs. One soldier pulled out a pistol, aiming for the young assassin, who snatched another soldier from Kenway's fight, using him as a human shield, before throwing the corpse to the ground. Before the soldier could even reload, Thomas was upon him, wielding his blades, striking every spot that the soldier left unprotected.

"Ah, keep up, lad!" He heard Kenway say as he executed his last cut, the body falling to the ground, still.

Thomas turned to see Kenway waiting impatiently, arms folded, tapping his foot, surrounded by corpses. He rolled his eyes, sheathing his wrist blades, following Kenway to the cowering merchant, who's eyes were closed, shaking as he curled up in the sand.

"Er, you alright?" Thomas asked as Kenway approached him, poking the form.

The merchant's eyes snapped open, darting around, seeing the two before him. Recognising them as allies instead of enemies, he stood, brushing the sand off his coat.

"By God's grace, sir, you saved me!" He exclaimed, shaking Kenway's hand as he was helped up off the beach. "A profusion of thanks to you both!"

The merchant was a stout, mousey looking man, his eyes beady and his whiskers unkempt. But his smile lit up his face, breathlessly thanking his two rescuers.

"Is that yours?" Kenway asked, nodding to the ship docked not to far away.

"It is my vessel, yes. But, ah..." The merchant turned, looking down on the bloodied corpse beside him. "Here lies its poor captain. And I have no art for sailing."

"I can pilot her myself, no mind. Thomas, what about yourself?"

"I've never steered a ship, it looks like that's going to be your job." The assassin replied.

"You don't mean to abscond with my ship, do you?" The merchant asked, more nervously than anything else.

Kenway paused.

"I'm Duncan." He said, stepping towards him. "What's your name, friend?"

"Stede. Stede Bonnet." The merchant said, shaking Kenway's hand again.

"Well Mister Bonnet, let this stay 'twixt us, but I'm on a secret errand for His Majesty the King, God save him and I must get to Havana with speed."

Thomas rolled his eyes, his arms folded. But the merchant appeared to believe Kenway's story and with eagerness to help the crown, he agreed.

"Ah, that is a relief! Sir, Havana is also my destination. Our ways lie together!"

"Natural allies then." Kenway gave an assuring smile.

"Oh, you put me at ease, sir." Bonnet sighed as Kenway unsheathed his sword, prying into the crates that littered the shore. "To think I took you for a pirate when you first appeared."

Kenway and Thomas exchanged a glance.

"Did you?" Kenway asked innocently, closing the crate lid.

"Yes! You had an... uncommon way of handling yourself, quick and easy if I may say. Gave me quite a fright! But all things considered, it's turned out to be a rather fortuitous day, hasn't it?"

Kenway said nothing and Thomas shrugged.

"I suppose, mate."

"And what about you, sir," Bonnet asked as Kenway left them, approaching the water. "Are you also working for the King and crown?"

Thomas smiled and tapped his nose.

"Ah, of course, confidential information, I understand." He nodded.

Without a rowboat in sight, the pirate and the assassin waded into the water, the reluctant merchant following.

"Oh... Oh, this is difficult." Bonnet gurgled behind them. "I should have taken the coat off!"

Kenway clambered up onto the small ship, stepping out of the way as Thomas joined him on deck.

"Er, a little help?" A voice called from the waters, Bonnet awkwardly paddling below.

"I got you," Thomas sighed, extending his hand to help pull up the man.

Despite Bonnet's rather stout frame, Thomas managed to take his weight, thanks to his extensive upper body strength from his assassin training.

Kenway took the wheel, Thomas on his left and Bonnet on his right. The assassin leant against the rail, looking out over the crew that scrambled about as the ship was set into motion. They made no notion to suggest that had noticed the ship's sudden change of captain and it only supported Thomas' opinion on sailors. They either poorly lacked in observation skills or they would sail under anyone as long as they were paid, fed and had a bed to sleep on.

"Welcome aboard, Duncan." Bonnet said, patting his clothes in an attempt to dry them. "She's a modest Schooner but well suited to my purpose, trafficking cargo from my plantation and such."

"She'll do fine." He was assured. "There's a strong wind now. Let's strike to full, shall we?"

After receiving the confirmation from Bonnet, Kenway shouted the order and Thomas and the rest of the crew set about in extending the sails, making sure they gathered as much wind as they could to pull the vessel along.

"Ah, there's a tug of the wind at my hair!" Bonnet exclaimed, sitting himself on a large box. "I find it a bracing comfort in the feel and the smell of the ocean. The raw stink of... Of possibility!"

"That's a top way of seeing it, mate."

"We've really opened it up now, haven't we!" Bonnet noted.

The ship twisted and turned through the small islands, carefully avoiding the risk of running aground. As the ship cleared the island and set for the open ocean, Bonnet stood.

"You're a natural sailor, Duncan." He congratulated.

"I did a decent trick at the helm some time ago." Kenway told him. "Two years before the mast as a privateer."

"Dash my buttons! Your life seems a grand one, if I may say. So full of adventure! How marvellous."

"I've seen my share of strangeness, aye."

The young assassin turned from the rigging and around to the face the pirate. It appeared he too had some interesting stories to share.

Thomas gripped the side of the ship, closing his eyes as the cool, salty air played with his hair. He breathed in deeply, taking in the breath of the sea. Opening his eyes, he gazed at the horizon. He thought his adventure would end with the death of Walpole but instead, it had just begun.


	3. 3 Trouble In Havana

_Havana, Cuba, June 1715_

"Ah, lively Havana!" Bonnet mused as the ship came into port. "I've been here once before, it was a truly awe-ful pleasure."

"See someone you know?" Asked Thomas as Bonnet stood beside him, waving at the people at the docks.

"No, no, no." Bonnet laughed, as if Thomas was the strange one. "Just putting on a friendly face. I shouldn't want to be mistaken for a pirate again."

"Right, flash rogue like yourself must be cautious." Thomas said.

As the crew began unloading the goods, Kenway and Thomas followed the merchant onto the docks.

"It's mad to think Spain and England were at war two years ago, isn't it?" Bonnet said, making conversation. "Here I am, bartering with Spaniards like they were my cousins."

Kenway said nothing, merely standing still, glancing around, analysing the view.

"Something wrong, Duncan?" Bonnet asked.

"No. It's nothing." He said, waving it off. "Sand in my hampers. So where's the best squat in town? I'm dying for a quick kip. Or a siesta, should I say?"

"Um... I'm just headed to a... a public house now to meet some merchants. I could... I could show you the way."

"Well lead on." Kenway said, flipping up his hood. "You coming Thomas?"

"Sure." He sighed. "I'm exhausted. I can always report back tomorrow."

"Good lad." Kenway grinned and slapped his back.

Despite only knowing each other for a short amount of time, the two men found themselves comfortable in each other's company, a mutual satisfaction with Walpole's death. Also, at any opportunity to exploit the Grand Master, Torres, Thomas would take it, and if it involved gold, so would Kenway. Thomas also found this man deeply curious. He treated Thomas with kindness, but he knew that he could cut his throat at a moment's notice if he got the chance.

'I'd like to see him try,' Thomas thought.

It was this curiosity that contributed to Thomas accepting Kenway's invite. He wanted to get to know this rogue pirate a little more, learn of his past and his thrilling stories of the sea. Entertainment was in short supply around these parts and Thomas would just about do anything to keep him from dying of boredom, as long as it kept him from the local brothel. He was a loyal man and no matter what happened, he would stay true to the girl he left back home.

"I hope you'll tarry a bit while I conduct my meeting. It would be a great relief to have men of your statures nearby in case of a... misunderstanding." Bonnet said his shoulder, carrying a crate of goods.

"We can hang about." Kenway assured him. "I might have a drink. Thomas?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. The young assassin had learnt to adapt to each and every situation he was in. So in the company of pirates, he would act like one.

"Splendid." Bonnet said nervously. "A drink."

"Well they don't take kindly to pirates here do they?" Thomas remarked, seeing the rotting corpses, feasts for the crows, hanging above them, a warning to any pirates that docked at Havana.

"I wonder how many stolen Reales bought these men this perch." Kenway said, peering up under his hood.

They stepped off the docks and onto solid land, making their way into the town.

"Ah ha!" Bonnet exclaimed. "Here's a purveyor of personal defences! I should acquire a blade for myself, Duncan. Just as you have."

Thomas grinned to himself. That poor merchant thought it was only Kenway that was armed. The hidden blades really were hidden well.

"This rusty razor's nothing to admire."

"Even so, I appear a mere kitten walking so close upon you! Perhaps a small dagger would suit me. Let's see what he's selling."

"Maybe I'll buy a sword too, and we'll both jump rank."

"Oh! We'll be quite the pair, you and I, twin devils!"

"Lend us a few Reales then, we did save your skin." Kenway pointed out.

"Ah, uh... of course." Bonnet reluctantly placed a purse of coins in each of the men's hands.

"Cheers, mate." Said Thomas and pocketed the coins.

"You're not buying?" Bonnet asked.

Thomas turned to him and with a smile, extended his wrist blades.

"Oh, my!" Bonnet exclaimed, fumbling with the crate.

As Kenway bought a pair of French cutlasses, Bonnet bought himself a dagger.

"That's a better fit for me." Kenway noted, examining the swords. "How'd you fare?"

"I had only enough for a small knife sadly." Bonnet said, hoping to guilt trip one of them from taking the majority of his money. But, as neither pirate or assassin showed pity or any sign that they would give the money back, Bonnet sighed and continued on. "Still, it'll do in a pinch."

They stepped away from the salesman, turning towards the large architecture of the island.

"Oh, puffer-duff!" Bonnet cursed. "I have led us astray."

"Oh, no matter. I'll get us a better view. What are we looking for?" Kenway asked, setting off at a jog towards the church.

"Uh, a tavern!" Bonnet called after him. "With a sort of courtyard interior!"

Thomas stood beside the merchant and watched Kenway scale the building with ease. Maybe climbing the rigging for so long had finally paid off.

"My goodness, he's an agile chap!" Bonnet remarked to Thomas, which Kenway and his trained ears heard.

"Every finger's a fishhook!" He called down. "That's how you tell a true sailor."

"Ah ha, yes. A fine way to put it."

As Kenway disappeared from sight, Bonnet turned to Thomas.

"Oh, dear, I've just realised I've been terribly rude! I've not yet asked your name."

"Thomas Young." He said and shook the merchant's hand, as if they had only just met.

"Well, Mister Young, how long have you known Duncan?"

"Not five minutes before yourself."

"Ah! A chance meeting! It does seem as if our paths were intended to cross."

"Maybe."

"I think I see the place!" Kenway called. "It's not far!"

Suddenly, a man burst in between the merchant and the assassin, making them stumble, caught off balance. Recognising Bonnet as the wealthier of the two, the man snatched what little coin he had left from his belt and although he tried to resist, Bonnet just received unintelligible abuse.

"Hey!" Thomas grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off Bonnet but the thief sent his fist soaring into the assassin's face.

Staggering back, Thomas roared curses, clutching his face as the thief took the money and ran.

"Hang on!" Kenway shouted and leapt down from the tower.

"I can't breath, oh God, I can't breath!" Bonnet gasped, gripping to a bench for support.

"Calm down, man!" Thomas said, wiping the blood from his nose on his shirt.

"That's all my money! Gone!"

"Ke-" Thomas stopped himself, careful to keep to Kenway's new identity. "Duncan'll bring it back, don't worry. How much did he take?"

Bonnet, still panicking, checked the contents on his belt.

"All eight Reales!" He cried.

"Oh, Jaysus!" Thomas put his hands over his face. He had a bloodied shirt, left with a hysterical man and there was every chance his nose was broken, just because of the theft of eight Reales.

Then, with a thud, Kenway landed beside them, purse in hand.

"Duncan! By Jove, you're alive!"

"Of course I am. That filch was no fuss."

The three continued on, two much more merrier than the other.

"Jaysus, lad, what happened?" Kenway jolted, noting the mess the assassin was in.

"That bastard you went after socked me right in the gob." Thomas growled, kicking the ground as he went.

He continued to grumble under his breath as they neared the tavern, confirmed by Bonnet.

"Take your time, we'll be just here." Kenway said as Bonnet left them, heading for his meeting.

Thomas and Kenway wandered among the rabble of drunkards, whores and rats, searching for a suitable place to sit and have a drink.

"Fancy meeting a Welshman deep in Dago country." A man said, a bottle in one hand, a blonde in the other. "I'm English meself. Biding my time 'til the next war calls me to service."

"Lucky King George having a piss-pot like you flying his flag." Kenway said, sitting down and pulling out Walpole's satchel.

"Oy!" The man barked, the woman stumbling from his lap as he stood suddenly. "Skulk! I've seen your face before. You's mates with them pirates down in Nassau."

"Oh, well done, Kenway." Thomas rolled his eyes.

"Shut your fucking gob or I'll fill it with shot." Kenway threatened the man. "Do you hear me?"

"Edward, is it?" The man laughed, flipping Kenway's hood back.

As he did so, Kenway shot his head forward, slamming it into the man's skull, sending him staggering back. Thomas sighed, head in hands as he watched the pirate get to his feet, bringing his knee sharply against the man's groin, shoving him onto a table. He crashed through it, lying heavily on the ground.

"You bastard!" Another man shouted, pointing at Kenway.

"Hey, I warned him-" He started before a third man sent his fist sailing for Kenway's nose.

As he clutched his bleeding nose, the two men grabbing his arms, throwing him into the centre of the courtyard. Kenway rolled and stood, rocking on his feet, ready to fight.

"You gonna help?" He called to Thomas.

"I think I'll pass." He called back.

Thomas watched on, taking a swig from a bottle that an unconscious drunkard had left unattended. Even if Kenway didn't have any interesting stories to tell him, a front row seat to an event like this would do just fine.

"Come on, Kenway!" He cheered as the pirate sent punches flying, kicking and beating his assailants.

Soon, the men lay flat out cold on the ground, the victorious Kenway standing among them, still pinching his bloody nose. Someone began shouting in Spanish and although he couldn't understand it, he knew it wasn't good.

Soldiers burst in, instantly alerted to the culprit, their weapons drawn.

"Time to be off." Kenway said, grabbing Thomas by the back of his shirt, hauling him to his feet.

"Here we go," Thomas sighed again, following the troublemaker out of the tavern and into the streets, soldiers in hot pursuit.

It seemed this notorious pirate was going to bring nothing but trouble for himself and everyone around him. The sooner the assassin returned to London, the better.


	4. 4 The Assassin And The Templar

They clambered up building after building in an attempt to loose them, skipping across the rooftops. Soon, they could no longer hear the cries of the soldiers and risking a look over his shoulder, Thomas found that they had lost them.

"Kenway, they're gone." He said, slowing down.

"Ah, that's good." He nodded. "Now let's get back to Bonnet."

They made their way back, cautiously, to the docks, where they found Bonnet sitting alone on a crate, his back to them.

"Sorry about the swift exit." Kenway said. "Bit of a misunderstanding."

"One heaped upon another." Bonnet said, and as Kenway and Thomas stood in front of him, they could see his wounds, his face bruised and bloody.

"Ah, Jaysus, I'm sorry, mate, this is my doing." Kenway apologised. "I'm only trying to keep these Spanish eyes off me."

"Oh, it's no bother." Bonnet waved him off, pawing at his swollen eye. "Regrettably, these soldiers confiscated my sugar. And your dispatches."

"Damn!" Kenway cursed.

"Where've they gone?" Thomas asked.

"I haven't the foggiest idea, I'm afraid. I suspect those chaps might but my Spanish is (very evil), so I'd- I'd rather not ask."

"Shit." Kenway spat. "Alright. Come on, let's follow 'em and recover my maps."

"And my sugar?"

"What, in my drawers? We'll see what happens."

Kenway went on ahead, subtly tailing the two Spanish guards. Thomas followed behind, the enthusiastic Bonnet at his heel.

"You don't mind me tagging along, do you?" He asked.

"Not if you keep quiet and stay out of sight." Thomas said in a hushed voice.

"I think they're onto us!" Bonnet blurted, alarmed as one of them merely scanned the area. "We should split up, to confuse them."

"Best idea you've had today." Hissed Thomas.

The soldiers spoke amongst themselves, blissfully unaware of the pirate, the assassin and the bumbling merchant that followed them. As the soldiers broke into a run, Kenway and Thomas did the same, still keeping to the shade and hidden areas. Finally, they stopped.

"We need to get closer, lad. To hear what they're saying."

Thomas nodded and they blended in with a group of dancers, moving provocatively around the young men. After Kenway gave them some Reales from his pocket, they smiled and kept by his side as they stalked the soldiers.

"How long will the hanging take, man?" One of them said. "I don't mean to hang about all day for the captain."

"Quick as anything, sir. Captain Mendoza needs only to hang the man, then he will deliver your payment."

"I don't want Reales, mind. I want goods. Things I can sell. Tobacco. Rum. Sugar."

"(Yes, Yes). We have much fine sugar. Crates we took off a fat Englishman last night."

"That'd be Bonnet then." Thomas whispered and Edward nodded.

"Englishman?"

"(Yes). Sugar from Barbados. Very fine. We hold it in the Castillo after the man started to fight last night. He ran, left his sugar behind. Very fine."

The reached the hanging and with the four women following close by, they blended into the spectators easily. The conversation continued, its contents of little interest as people flocked to the hanging of one lone man, swinging gently in the breeze.

"There, that's the captain." Kenway hissed, pointing to a man descending the steps of the gallows.

To confirm it, Thomas blinked, changing his sight. Sure enough, the man glowed gold. A target.

They continued to follow him, the dancers in tow, careful not to be sighted by an suspicious guards.

"Watch my back." Kenway said and stepped towards the captain, cautiously searching pickpockets for a key.

Then, with a smile, Kenway flashed the prize and put a good distance between the captain before anyone suspected him of theft.

"What now?" Thomas asked as he stepped back into invisibility, hidden by the dancers.

"We need to get into the fort."

"We?"

"Two heads are better than one."

"Not if they're on a chopping block."

Ah, come on, lad. I could use a hand."

"Fine. Lead the way."

Kenway scaled a tree beside the high walled fort, using its branches to jump onto the wall, using uneven bricks and metal hoops to pull himself up. Thomas followed, using the pirate's technique. Together, they edged along the wall, climbing further up to a tower, overlooking the fort.

"Will you look at that." Kenway breathed, taking in the view.

The fort was surrounded with water, appearing to float. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, like ants, scurrying around the stone floor.

Thomas jumped first, bending his knees on impact so as to not break them. With Kenway in pursuit, he ducked behind a stack of crates, hiding from a guard, before leaping over the inner wall, hanging onto the edge. He lead Kenway to the other side of the fort, always out of sight.

"Wait!" Thomas hissed as Kenway began to pull himself up. Silently, he pointed to a soldier, rifle in his arms, standing above them on the roof.

"Good lad." He nodded and as the soldier turned around, the two climbed up, and keeping to the shadows, moved on.

"In here." Kenway tapped Thomas's shoulder, disappearing into an inconspicuous room.

Instantly, Kenway went to the table where Walpole's bag rested. He lifted it, checked its contents and satisfied it was still there, he turned, facing the crates.

"This looks like Bonnets." Thomas observed, poking a finger in the sugar granules.

"Aye." Kenway said, making for the door.

"We're not going to take it with us?"

"I don't know about you, but I can't carry that and climb, lad."

Thomas shrugged.

"Fair enough."

Kenway burst out of the door, ignoring the soldiers, leaping from the wall and diving into the waters below.

"Ah, hell." Thomas cursed as the soldiers, alerted, turned to the young man, still dressed as a sailor, stood in the doorway.

They raised their guns, shouting something in Spanish.

"Not today mate." He grinned and bolted, shoving them out of the way as he followed Kenway over the edge.

He kept low for a while, holding his breath as the soldiers above searched the waters. Once they had given up, turning away from the wall, Thomas resurfaced, gulping air as he swam after Kenway.

As Thomas reached the docks, Kenway was already up and so offered a hand to the young assassin. Then, they ran along the wooden structure, making their way to Bonnet's ship, and himself.

"Sorry about the sugar." Kenway said, "we've only two pairs of hands between us."

"Oh, it's no great loss." Bonnet assured him. "Uh, I've got a... plenty of cargo here to make a profit of my trip."

"Will you stay here long?"

"For a few weeks, yes. Then back to Barbados, to the tedium of domesticity."

"Don't settle for tedium. Sail for Nassau. Live life as you see fit."

Bonnet laughed.

"Haven't I heard that Nassau is crawling with pirates? Seems a very tawdry place."

"Not tawdry. Liberated."

"Oh, God, that would be an adventure." Bonnet sighed, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. "But no, no... I'm a husband and a father. I have responsibilities. Life can't be all pleasure and distraction, Duncan."

Kenway bit his lip.

"Hey, ah, Bonnet. The name's Edward in truth. Duncan's only a handle."

"Ah..." He grinned. "A secret name for your secret meeting with the governor. And I suppose your real name isn't Thomas Young either?"

"No, no." Thomas shook his head. "My real name is Thomas Young, I assure you."

"Oh." Bonnet frowned, the answer dulling his excitement of mystery.

"The governor, right." Kenway nodded. "I think I've kept him waiting long enough."

Bonnet waved as the two young men turned away, approaching the island again.

"You coming?" Kenway asked and Thomas shook his head.

"I've got to report back to the Brotherhood in England. I'll meet you later."

"Aye, see you later then." Kenway flipped up his hood, masking his face and set off at a sprint in the opposite direction.

Thomas made his way for the post office, pushing open the door. It creaked horrendously, the few people that occupied the room turning his way, with dark looks.

"Filthy sailor." One muttered.

"Probably one for fights, just look at the blood."

Thomas looked down, his shirt dirty and bloodied. It seemed a tailor would be the next port of call.

He took paper, an envelope and a pen from the desk and sat down, ignoring the hushed voices around him.

'To the Master Assassin,

I have followed Walpole to as far as Cape Bonavista where our ship became involved in conflict with another. Both ships sunk however Walpole survived, washing up on the island with myself and one other. I followed him further where the pirate that survived with us, killed him. The pirate took his identity and is now with me in Havana, currently meeting the Templar governor who believes the man he is with is Duncan Walpole. I will send another report with further information once it comes about.

Thomas Young.'

He folded up the note and stuffed it into the envelope.

"To London," he said to the post man as he scrawled the exact address down.

"Writing home to your girl?" He asked.

"Nah, just to friends."

"You gotta girl then?"

Thomas shook his head.

The post man nodded his thanks as he was passed coin for the letters postage and Thomas left the post office.

He breathed in, painful memories resurfacing. He did have a girl, not to long ago. She was a beautiful girl, long blonde hair and bright blue eyes with a wicked smile that could steal your heart. And that's just what she did.

"You alright, lad?" The tailor asked, concerned as the young man stood still, unblinking as he stared at the fabrics.

Thomas jumped, awoken from his daydream.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He sniffed, rubbing his eyes.

The young assassin bought a fresh shirt, royal blue in colour, with tan coloured trousers. He also took a scrap of fabric, tying it into a head band to push his sandy brown hair out of his face.

"Cheers, mate." Thomas thanked the tailor, passing him the Reales he had received from Bonnet.

His steps heavy and his head in the clouds, Thomas slowly clumped along the ground, arriving at an inn. Before he paid for a room, he slumped down at a table by the bar, head in hands, staring blankly at the wood.

He had gone through his whole voyage without a thought of his lost sweetheart, but now that she'd been brought up, he couldn't get her off his mind. Her dainty laugh, the way her hair shone in the sunlight, that playful wink, it plagued him. Even though he knew she didn't love him, he couldn't stop imagining scenarios, various way where they would reunite and their love rekindled. He dreamt of arriving home in England and there, waiting for him at the docks, was her. She'd give him that pretty smile, kiss him and tell him she loved him all along.

"Thought I'd find you in here." Kenway sat heavily down in the chair opposite him, startling the young man. "Something got you down, lad?"

"No, it's nothing. How did the meeting go?"

"They believe I'm Walpole, although, unknowingly, Mrs Woodes Rogers nearly gave me away."

"What did she say?"

"She wasn't there. Rogers said that Walpole and her had met before, describing him as 'devilishly handsome.' He obviously has a very different idea of what handsome looks like." Kenway grumbled.

"Anything else?"

"I met the Grand Master, Torres. That clear cube, still don't know what it's used for, Walpole stole it from the Assassins in England, to bring to Torres."

"And you just gave it to him?!" Thomas exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"What else was I going to do? Say, 'sorry, my mate is an assassin and wants to send this back'?"

Thomas sighed, squeezing his hands into his eyes.

"Are you seeing him again?" He asked.

"Aye. Tomorrow morning, by the Castillo. Care to join us?"

"From a distance. I'd like to see first hand the dealings you Templars meddle in."

"'You Templars'? I'm no-" Kenway started, but Thomas snatched his hand, showing the ring on his finger.

"You wear the Templar ring, you've been initiated into the Order, you're a Templar."

"Ah, what does it matter." Kenway laughed, leaning back. "You know I'm only in it for the gold, mate."

"It's your greed that's going to bring you to your doom, Kenway." Thomas said, standing.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Kenway called as Thomas paid for a room, took the key, and stomped up the stairs.

With a clouded mind, he slumped down onto the dusty mattress and Thomas fell into a disjointed sleep, images of a blonde haired girl and a greedy Templar plaguing his dreams.


	5. 5 A Compromised Meeting

"Good morning, Duncan." Rogers greeted the imposter. "Just over here."

Thomas watched the two, hidden behind a wagon. As they moved away, he continued to keep his eyes on them, subtly moving his hiding place, resulting in bumping straight into Bonnet.

"Oh, hello there, Thomas, didn't see you there! Off on another secret mission I see." Bonnet ignored the assassin's signal to be quiet, instead, turning, to see Kenway. "Edward!" He called, waving, again ignoring Thomas's panicked hissing. "Hello, Edward!"

Rogers and Kenway turned, one confused, the other anxious.

"I found a man to purchase my remaining sugar! Quite a coup, I must say!" He laughed, picking up a crate from the wagon Thomas crouched behind.

"He just called you Edward." Thomas heard Rogers say.

"Oh, that's the merchant who sailed me here. Out of caution, I gave him a false name." Kenway said. Maybe he was right, maybe he was a good liar.

"Ah... well done." Rogers smiled, the ugly scar on his left cheek moving as he did so.

"We'll catch up, Bonnet! Later." Kenway told him, a dark look to follow.

"Oh, I wonder what that was all about." Bonnet said to Thomas who was still attempting to move.

"Edward's meeting with someone, I'll tell you about it later." He said, scurrying past him.

"I look forward to it! Bye for now!" He waved cheerfully.

Thomas kept to the shade, watching as Rogers and Kenway grouped with several soldiers, Torres and Julien du Casse.

"Very punctual, Duncan." Torres said. "This way."

The group approached a rough looking man, his hands shackled and his face bloody.

"Here he is," Torres introduced. "A man both Templars and Assassins have sought for over a decade." He then spoke directly to the man. "I am told your surname is Roberts. Is this so?"

He said nothing.

"You recognise this, I think."

Torres placed the clear cube in his shackled hands, held up by the heavily armoured guard that stood beside the Sage.

"According to old tales, the blood of a Sage is required to enter the observatory." Du Casse mused.

"We have the key." Torres gripped the cube. "Now we need only its location. Perhaps mister Roberts will be eager to provide it." He turned to the guard. "Transfer him to my residence." He ordered.

With that, the Templars turned, the Sage dragged to his feet as they continued to walk through the city.

"Such a fuss over one man?" Kenway said, scanning the area for his friend. "Is the Observatory such a grand prize?"

"(Yes, indeed). The Observatory was a tool built by the precursor race. It's worth is without measure."

"Precursor race. I see."

"One of your early letters mentioned a desire to kill the Mayan Mentor, Ah Tabai. Were you able to carry out this contract before coming here?"

"I was not, no. Too many... complications along the way."

"A pity. But the maps you delivered with the blood vial will see that job finished."

"Aye. That's the idea."

Thomas frowned. There were assassins nearby? He had only heard of Brotherhoods formed on mass continents and countries, England, America, France, Italy, but not on an island. If he knew where they were, maybe he could warn them.

"I don't like this route, Torres." Rogers said, following Kenway's gaze. "We're exposed."

"Something is wrong. Stay close, Grand Master." Du Casse added.

"I feel it too. Do not let them get their hands on the Sage! At whatever cost!" Torres ordered.

Thomas looked ahead, curious who they spoke about and gasped as a dozen white figure dropped from the rooftops. He could only watch as the soldiers and the Templars engaged in warfare and it was all he could do from screaming when Kenway joined the fight, cutting down each assassin that still stood.

"Bastard..." Thomas whispered from the shadows, mourning for his fellow assassins. "Kenway, you Templar bastard..."


	6. 6 Saying Goodbye

Thomas felt sick, his feet rooted to the ground as he watched the scene. More assassins jumped down, pinning soldiers to the floor with their blades but their lives were swiftly cut short as the armoured guard threw his axe into one, the Sage embedded his wrist blade in another.

Liberated, the Sage fled and Kenway bolted after him. The battle died down, the Templars victorious. Confident no more assassins watched them from above, they sheathed their weapons and wandered away.

Thomas breathlessly stepped into the empty square, bodies littered the floor. All were still, but one.

The young assassin ran to the shaking form, blood pouring from the man's chest. His eyes were unfocused but he recognised a figure kneeling beside him. His hand batted at the air until Thomas took it, holding it tight.

"Brother..." The man whispered.

"Brother." Thomas said, his voice unsteady.

The dying assassin's chest heaved, his hand intently gripping Thomas's. He gave a weak smile, showing a sign of comfort, before he stilled.

Thomas placed the assassin's hand on his chest and closed his eyes.

"Rest in peace." A tear made a trail down his cheek.

Thomas stood and stepped away from the bodies of his fellow assassins. How many had died, he didn't know. One was too many.

He had already lost the trail of the Templars but by now, he was past caring. A third figure plagued his thoughts, that of the dying assassin. His eyes, filled with pain but contained a glimmer of happiness just as he died.

With heavy feet and a heavier heart, he sat down on a bench outside a tavern. The bar maid recognised a distraught face and stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder, placing a bottle down.

"It's on the house." She smiled.

"Cheers." He said weakly and took a swig.

He buried his head in his arms, resting on the table. He wasn't going to cry but he sure as hell was going to feel damned sorry for himself.

"Er, Thomas?"

He raised his weary head and greeted the merchant.

"Oh, hallo, Bonnet."

"Mind if I take a seat?"

"Not at all."

Bonnet sat beside Thomas, rather awkwardly, as the young man took another drink.

"I was going to ask how your morning went, you know, with all that sneaking about. Looked quite exciting."

"It wasn't much. I followed Kenway for a bit. Saw him kill a few assassins." Thomas took a swig from the bottle.

"Oh, is that bad?"

"Aye, it's bad when you're an assassin yourself and you see your kin killed in front of you and there's nothing to do but watch. Kenway can wear the uniform, but he's a Templar through and through."

"I'm sorry. But, um, Kenway...?"

"Edward."

"Oh, well, Edward always seemed a good man. I'm sure this is all for show, just so those Templars will let him in. I bet he regrets the deaths of those assassins as much as you."

"Doubt it."

Thomas took another drink as the Templar pirate sat down opposite them.

"God sink me for this pittance." Kenway spat, slamming the purse of gold onto the table. "One thousand Reales for those maps. That's what? A hundred pounds at most. How's a man supposed to become rich in these times with a miser like Torres running the world?"

"Have you ever, ah... You ever worked on a plantation before?" Bonnet asked, wary of two guards that passed.

"You know what I'm thinking? I'd like to see this Observatory the governor was going on about. He said it were like a device that could follow people around and show where they were."

"A ludicrous idea! Imagine my wife with such an advantage over me." Bonnet laughed.

"Well, imagine what a thing like that would be worth." Kenway stood. "Sell that to the right person and I'd be the richest pirate-" he looked back, glancing from Thomas, who already knew his identity, to Bonnet, who glugged away on the drink in his hand, oblivious to the information Kenway just let slip. "- privateer in the West Indies."

Kenway watched the large house in the distance, the dark blue sky dotted with stars, set as its background. He turned again, noticing the dark look on Thomas's face.

"What's up, lad?"

Thomas said nothing.

"It were those assassins, weren't it?" Kenway said, more exasperated than remorseful.

Thomas took yet another drink and slammed the bottle down, abruptly.

"All you care about," he growled, "is how much Reales you can get by the end of the day, whether you get it from selling someone out, killing a dozen assassins, or just by being a bastard. There's blood on your hands, and on that money there, Kenway. And soon enough, you'll never be able to wash it out."

Thomas stood, snatching up the bottle with him. He paused for a moment, his wrist blade twitching. All it would take was him to grab the man from across the table and his brother's deaths would be avenged.

Kenway barked a laugh.

"You got that right, but I don't care how bloody my hands get, as long as I can wash 'em in gold!" He grinned.

With a roar, Thomas leapt at Kenway, pinning him to the ground.

"Have you any idea what you've done?!" He cried, his wrist blade mere hair widths from Kenway's neck.

"What are you playing at, Thomas? I had to kill them, you saw that!" Kenway exclaimed, taken by surprise as he lay flat on his back.

"You didn't have to, you could had stopped it!"

"Damn it, Thomas, you know that's not true! And besides, I've got information for you and your Brotherhood. Does that mean nothing?"

"Not if you're killing them! The only bloody disappointment you have is that the Templars didn't pay you well."

"Aye, 'tis." Kenway growled, defiantly staring back at the young man that had his life in his hands.

Thomas shoved Kenway, standing up again.

"Goodbye, Kenway. Find me when you want to help the assassins, instead of killing them." He said, putting thoughts of murder aside, for now, and walked away, not looking back.


	7. 7 Change Of Plan

When Kenway disappeared, Thomas didn't bat an eyelid.

"Good." He told the alarmed merchant. "He can be sleeping at the bottom of the ocean for all I care."

"But what if he's been killed?" Bonnet exclaimed, nervously pacing up and down the docks.

"Then he's finally got what he deserves." Thomas stepped aboard the plank that led to a ship headed for England. "Goodbye, Bonnet." He patted the merchant's shoulder and walked aboard.

Farewell, Thomas!" He waved.

Thomas gave a smile and waved back. Despite his cheerfully ignorant disposition, Bonnet was a good man.

The young assassin sat down and turned to face the other passengers. It had almost become habit to just sit and listen to other people's conversations and so Thomas did just that.

"Ah, Torres should have told me sooner!"

Thomas kept his head down, recognising the form of Woodes Rogers addressing a messenger.

"I'm sorry, sir-"

"No matter, you say it was Kenway that released the Sage?"

"That's what Torres believes, but Kenway himself denies it."

"Hm, he would. And there's no sign of the Sage?"

"No, but we have men searching for him, all over Havana."

"Havana may not be enough. Widen the search, try Nassau, I hear that place is crawling with scum like him."

"Yes, sir."

As the messenger left, Thomas was right behind him.

"Er, back so soon, Thomas?" Bonnet asked, surprised to see the young assassin quickly leaving the ship.

"Bonnet, I need to go to Nassau."

"Right! Ah, why?"

"The Sage escaped and Templars are everywhere looking for him. I can't go back to England. If they find him, that's the end for assassins all over the world. I have to find him first."

"And you think Nassau is the best place to look?"

"Aye, according to Rogers anyway." He signalled to the scarred man who wandered about the ship, waiting for it to leave.

"Good plan, unfortunately, without Kenway, my ship is lacking in someone to pilot it."

"Find someone! Anyone with half a mind in their head!" Thomas said desperately.

"Of course." Bonnet nodded and turned away, searching for anyone that looked like he could speak English, could steer a ship and could stand up straight.

"I'll meet you at your ship!" Thomas called.

Before he boarded, the assassin rushed to the post office, the man behind the desk rather bewildered at Thomas's speed. He snatched a pen and paper, scrawling a note to the assassins back in London.

'To the Master Assassin,

I won't be returning to England, not for a while at least. The Templars have discovered the identity of a man called the Sage and are currently searching for him across Havana and Nassau. If they find him, the consequences are dire and I intend to find him first and either use him for the gain of the assassins, or kill him, so the Templars will lose their prize. The imposter posing as Duncan Walpole has been exposed and is missing. He is of no use so my focus will be solely on retrieving the Sage.

Thomas Young.'

The assassin practically threw the letter at the post man as he paid and raced from the post office back to the harbour.

"Ah, Thomas!" Bonnet greeted the breathless man. "Are you ready to sail?"

"Aye, let's go. We need to reach Nassau before that ship does." He pointed to the ship Rogers was on, not yet set off.

"Right, I've got a captain now, good enough for the time being."

"Excellent work, Bonnet." Thomas smiled. "Now let's find that Sage."


	8. 8 A Drink

Yo yo, long time no see! So I've finally got another chapter up and introducing a brand new character aayy! So just as an fyi, if you're playing AC4 at the same time of reading this, probably not a good idea since my story, particularly in the upcoming chapters, contains spoilers! You have been warned!

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><p><em>Nassau, Bahamas, September 1715<em>

"Ah, come on, mate!" Jemima laughed, ducking a blow from a cutlass at the last second. "You can do better than that!"

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to hide his heavy breathing.

"Jack, you know you're the best damned fighter on this ship!" He cried breathlessly. "We all know it!"

"Are you just too afraid to hurt me in case my daddy gets angry?" She pouted.

Sam shook his head and dropped his swords in defeat.

"You win." He sighed.

She shrugged and turned away, sheathing her own swords. In truth, her father, the captain, would become furious if anyone hurt her, not because she was his child, but in case they found her true identity. To protect her, mainly from superstitious and perverted sailors, Edward Thatch had dressed his daughter in boy's clothes and gave her the name 'Jack'. Only he knew of her secret and that's how it was going to stay.

"Land ho!" A voice cried and Jemima watched the island come into view.

"Nassau." She breathed.

After the death of her mother, her father, a pirate who's life was on the sea, returned to mourn, only to find a girl of seventeen left behind. And so, for the following two years, took her into his care as her mother was the last living member of her family. To the girl's delight, her life took a sudden turn, from living a poor farm girl, to living as a pirate. She had never been to Nassau before but knew it was a pirate haven. Perfect for her.

The ship docked and as the crew scurried about, Thatch and Jemima stepped down the plank, greeted by the rough but dashing form of Benjamin Hornigold.

"Ah, if it isn't Edward Thatch, the most terrifying pirate of all the seven seas!" He laughed, embracing him.

"It's good to see you, mate."

"And who's this lad, here?" Hornigold asked, nodding to Jemima.

"This is my son, Jack."

"Ah, nice to meet ye." Hornigold extended his hand.

"Likewise." Jemima said, shaking it, her voice gruff.

As they walked onto the shore, a soldier, dressed in the Spaniard uniform, rushed towards them, shouting for them to stop.

"You, pirates!" He called, speaking English but his Spanish accent prominent.

"Aye?" Jemima asked, her pistol tapping her cheek dangerously. "Here to arrest us poor defenceless pirates, are ye?"

"Go on, Captain Queernabs!" Thatch mocked. "Tell me I'm under arrest! Tell me!"

The soldier, terrified by the pirate's fearsome roar, fled.

"Fly away, Boyo!" Hornigold called after him. "Back to your master!"

The three laughed, amused by the soldiers terrified face.

"So, where to now?" Jemima asked, eager to see the sights of Nassau.

"I think a drink is in order." Hornigold suggested and Thatch nodded in agreement.

"A drink it is then." She smiled as they walked among the cluster of rundown buildings, heading for a bar.

For days, Thomas searched for the man, to no avail. He inquired for any signs or traces left behind, but the Sage was either extremely good at hiding his tracks or he had never even arrived in Nassau.

The latter was starting to seem more likely.

In the afternoon sun, the young assassin sat on the docks, his feet cooling in the water, his face bathed in sunlight.

As he heard the rumble of a ship approach, he reluctantly stood, heading back for the beach. His wet feet gathered sand, but Thomas didn't care. Now, he was pretty much past caring for everything. It hurt to admit it, but he was lonely. All his life, he'd had family, the Brotherhood, friends and even his girl beside him, but now, he had no one. He couldn't even find the Sage and if the Templars got hold of him again, it would be Thomas's fault. And that was a pain he couldn't face.

He kicked the sand, ignoring the heavy footsteps that approached him.

"Thomas?"

The young man turned to see the grinning form of Edward Kenway standing before him.

"Kenway?"

"Look, lad." He started. "I know we parted on rough terms, but I've come to make amends."

"You'll fight with the assassins?"

"Not quite, but I'm more than happy to take down those Templars."

"Truly?"

"Hey, they beat me and planned to sell me on a slave ship. I think that's as good a reason as any to have revenge."

"Aye, and how about the lives of the assassins you took? Is revenge on you justified?" Thomas asked, his arms folded.

"Thomas, lad," Kenway pleaded. "I did wrong, I know it, but one mess at a time. Now, are you coming with me or not?"

Thomas rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Where to?"

"Well first," Kenway grinned, pleased to have his friend back. "I'm after a drink."


	9. 9 New Friends In Nassau

"Hallo, Thatch, Hornigold." A young pirate said, turning around on his seat at the bar as the three approached him.

"Good day to ya, Kidd." Thatch greeted. "It seems every pirate under the sun is in Nassau today!" He laughed.

"Aye, but I haven't met your friend." He raised an eyebrow at Jemima.

"My name's Jack, Jack Thatch." Jemima said, shaking Kidd's hand.

"Indeed." He said, a sly grin on his face and in that moment, he knew her true identity.

And in that moment, she knew his.

"By God, you're a sight for salty eyes!" Hornigold remarked and Thatch, Kidd and Jemima turned to see the three figures approach them. "Come you in and have a drink."

"Morning all." Kenway nodded.

"Ahoy, Kenway." Thatch returned the greeting and turned to the two men that followed him. "Who's this?"

"Thomas Young, a friend from a shipwreck. And Adewalé, the Jackdaw's quatermaster."

"Jackdaw?" Thatch scoffed. "You named your brig after a poxy bird?"

Kenway rolled his eyes.

"Adé, Thomas, these lads are the better part of our growing confederacy here. Ed Thatch, Ben Hornigold, James Kidd and..." He trailed off, not recognising the young pirate.

"Jack Thatch." Jemima said, nodding to Kenway, Thomas and Adé.

As Adé stepped away to get a drink, Hornigold stepped closer to Kenway.

"You let him carry a pistol, do ye?" He asked, arms folded.

"Peace, Ben." Kenway warned. "Adé saved my life. And now we're looking to find a crew to fill out the rest of my ship."

"Well, there's scores of capable men about." Thatch said, glancing around the surrounding area. "But use caution. A shipload of the king's sailors showed up a fortnight back, causing trouble about like they own the place."

"Right. I'll see who I can muster."

As Adé and Kenway left to gather crew members, Thomas stayed behind, unintentionally getting acquainted with the others. He sat down at a table beside Kidd, Thatch and Jemima, drinks littered the place.

"So you say you met Kenway in a shipwreck? How so?" Thatch asked.

"We were in two different ships, fighting each other. Us two were the only survivors." Thomas took a drink.

It wasn't the whole truth, they weren't the only two to wash up on the island, but they were the only two to leave it.

"Kenway sounds like he's nothing but trouble." Jemima said. "I like him."

"He's a greedy, good for nothing, murderer, that's what he is." Growled Thomas.

"Aren't we all though, lad?" Thatch chuckled. "We've all done things that many would consider damnable, Kenway just seems to get more done."

Thomas took another drink.

"He just doesn't care."

"That's how we get by, lad." Thatch patted his shoulder and left him alone with the young pirates.

"There's something more, isn't there?" Kidd asked, leaning forward. "It's alright, you can tell us. We're all men here." He cast a sly grin Jemima's way.

Thomas sighed, putting his drink down, leaning back in his chair.

"Have any of you felt heartbreak?" He asked, his eyes fixed on his bottle.

The two shook their heads.

"What does it feel like?" Jemima asked.

"It feels like your heart, your soul, whatever that keeps you alive, has been ripped from your body. It feels like you're falling apart and there's nothing you can do to fix it."

"You must have loved her a lot." Kidd mused.

"Aye. But she didn't love me back."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

"We were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together and every day in her company was like heaven. And I thought it was the same for her. I asked her to marry me. She said no. Then she left me."

"That's tough, man." Kidd bowed his head.

"But you're living the life of a pirate now!" Jemima said cheerfully. "You can live any adventure you choose and return home, loaded with gold and win her back! Don't give up hope!"

"You're too optimistic for your own good, lad." Thomas sighed. "If you're not careful, it'll get you hurt."

"And you're too pessimistic for your own good." Jemima retorted. "Many a man has died from it, a drink in one hand and pistol in the other." She raised an eyebrow at the bottle he held.

"Jack's right." Kidd pointed out. "Don't let it get the best of you. Remember the good times and throw the bad out to the deepest, darkest parts of the sea and leave them there. The choice is up to you. Forget her, or win her back."

Thomas chuckled and the two exchanged a look.

"What's so funny?" Jemima frowned.

"To be honest, I thought at least one you would suggest some 'stress relief' to get her off my mind."

"Maybe we see women, even those you pay for the pleasure, as more than just 'stress relief'." Jemima said.

"You're some strange men." Thomas laughed, standing. "I'm going to take a walk. Clear my head."

Kidd and Jemima nodded as he left, watching him go.

"Ah, how little he knows." Kidd muttered.

"How little he sees." Jemima added.


	10. 10 No Longer Alone

Before long, Kenway returned, his task of recruiting crew members complete. As he stepped away to speak with Hornigold, Jemima watched him, curious.

"So what's Kenway's story?" Jemima asked as the two stepped out of earshot.

"He's got a girl back home but not too popular with her father." Thatch said, taking a swig from his cup. "All this is to make him rich so he can return home a wealthy man and can please her."

"Shouldn't she love him anyway? No matter how much gold he owns?"

"She probably does, but men like Kenway, they don't think that way. He thinks by getting all the Reales under the sun, he can make her happy and appear a decent husband in her father's eyes."

Jemima nodded, glancing up to her father beside her.

"That's what you thought, didn't you? With mother."

Thatch turned away.

"Aye. I found the pull of the sea too strong, adventure and gold became my love but I never forgot her. I wanted to return, to show her all I've done. 'Next month', I'd tell myself, 'next month I'll go back to her' but I never did."

"Not 'til you heard she died."

"Aye. You know the rest of that story, lass." He said, patting her on the back, as he stepped into conversation between Kenway, Hornigold and Kidd.

"Ah, rot!" Thatch muttered, seeing a map that Kenway passed to Kidd as they spoke on the location of the Observatory. "It's fairy stories you prefer to gold, is it?"

"It's worth more than gold, Thatch. Ten thousand times above what we could pull off any Spanish ship." Kenway said.

"Robbing the king to pay his papers is how we earn our keep here, lad." Hornigold reminded him. "That ain't a fortune, it's a fantasy."

Kenway said nothing, but took the map back off Kidd.

"Do you think it really exists?" Jemima asked as Kenway left the tavern.

"Maybe." Kidd said.

"Nah, course not." Thatch scoffed.

"But what if it does exist? Imagine the gold you could get from that!"

"Don't fill your head with wild thoughts." Her father said. "You'll only get disappointed."

"That's what Thomas said." She grumbled.

Thatch smiled.

"You're a bright one, always thinking of the good things. But you have to be realistic. It's not real."

She nodded but didn't believe him. If the Templars, the Assassins and Kenway said it was true, then it had to be.

"Hey, Thomas!"

He turned, hands in pockets at he trudged along the streets of Nassau.

"Hallo, Jack." He said as Jemima jogged up to him.

"You feeling any better?"

"Aye. I've been thinking about what you and Kidd were saying and I've come to a decision."

"Oh?"

"I'm going to get rich, show I'm capable of being a good husband and return to England and win her back."

"Good on ye." She grinned, patting his shoulder. "But go back soon. You never know what could happen if you leave it too late."

He nodded.

"Aye. Will do. But I have to follow Kenway and find the Sage before the Templars do. If they reach him, it'll be the end of the Brotherhood."

She frowned.

"You're an assassin?"

His wrist blades sprung out to confirm it.

"And the Sage, he knows where the Observatory is, doesn't he?"

"Aye. You interested?"

"My father doesn't believe it exists, but think of the wonders that it holds! Never mind the gold!" She breathed.

"You should join us." He invited.

"I will. By the way, we're leaving soon, heading for Salt Key. Kenway and Hornigold have already gone."

"Right, let's go then."

The pirate and the assassin made their way back to the docks, a friendship forming between them. As he walked along side her, he smiled. For once in a long time, he no longer felt alone.


	11. 11 Staying True

"Not a bad take today." Hornigold said, admiring the Jackdaw's new upgrades that docked at Salt Key. "Keep this up and Nassau'll be first city where men and women may live as God made them, easy and free. All it takes is a few drips of blood, sweat and a swatch of cloth."

"We fly no colours here, but praise the lack of 'em." Thatch said, the five of them watching the Jackdaw's sails billow gently in the wind. "So let the black flag signal nothing but your allegiance to man's natural freedoms. This one's yours." He patted Kenway's shoulder. "Fly it proud."

"I will."

"Hand over the docket I lent you." Hornigold said. "If we're to keep our republic afloat, we'll need guns as well as gold."

"That means attacking the navy." Jemima pointed out.

"So long as they're flying King Philips colours, we'll not offend our own monarch."

Kenway nodded and he and Hornigold stepped back aboard the Jackdaw, ready to sink and plunder all the ships they could find.

"You're a wonder, Kenway." Thatch laughed as the Jackdaw's crew repaired the ship around them, returning from their successful trip. "You've a knack for this kind of work."

"It ain't work if you love it." Kenway grinned.

"Ah! Ah! Tosh!"

"But I ain't doing this forever, lads." Kenway said, snatching a bottle from the air that Hornigold tossed his way. "Only until I get enough coin to buy some land and influence back home."

"Same here." Thomas said, taking a drink from his bottle.

"Jaysus, will you listen to your tripe?" Hornigold laughed. "Still dreaming on about that strumpet back in England, when you could have any Betty you wanted, here and now."

"Ah, such lofty goals for you gents." Kenway said sarcastically. "And here I thought I was in the company of scoundrels."

As he left them to speak to his quatermaster, Jemima turned on Hornigold.

"It's a good thing to be true to someone. Shows you've got some respect."

"Are you saying I've got no respect?" Hornigold frowned.

"I'm saying you should leave off those who do. Just because the only women you can get have to be paid first."

"Hey, now. Watch your tongue, lad." He said, slowly drawing his sword.

"As should you." She said through gritted teeth, showing her pistol on the inside of her jacket.

"Why do you care if I'm encouraging Kenway to indulge himself once in a while?"

"Because it's not just Kenway in that ship." Thomas said. "I've got a girl back home I'd like to marry, live happily and securely with all the wealth I've gained. I'm going to stay true to her, no matter what."

Hornigold barked a laugh.

"This commitment lark is spreading like the plague! I should be careful not to catch it."

Jemima slowly drew her pistol, a dark look in her eyes.

"Alright, lad." Hornigold gave in, catching sight of it. "I'll leave off."

"Make sure you do." She warned and Hornigold sat down on a crate, defeated, drinking his bottle.

"You truly are a child of Ed Thatch." Thatch laughed, slapping his daughter's back. "You gave me a scare there! Really thought you were gonna take a shot at Ben!"

"So did I." She grinned wickedly.

"Ah, one of these days you're going to have to look after me!" He laughed.

"Ahoy, lads!" Kenway called, stepping down from the helm. "I'm going to meet Kidd, he says there's an opportunity to rob a sugar plantation. Any takers?"

"Sugar plantation?" Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Seems pretty mundane."

"If you see it that way. Anyone else? Thatch? Hornigold? Jack?"

The three shook their heads.

"Nah, we're good." Jemima said. "But I want to know more about the Observatory. I want to see it."

"So do I, lad." Kenway nodded, ignoring her father's exasperated expression. "I need to find the Sage to find its location."

"Or we could kill him." Thomas suggested.

"Why would we do that?" Jemima asked.

"If the Templars find him first, I can't begin to imagine the effects it'll have on the Brotherhood. I can't take that risk."

"Oh, right, assassin." Jemima nodded, remembering. "But still, think of the gold, think of all the coin you can bring home to your girl! Do it for her."

He frowned, glancing from face to face, expecting a further statement, either an encouragement or a discouragement.

"Fine." He gave in. "Curse me and my greed. I won't kill him. Not yet anyway."

"Aye, there's a good lad." She grinned and patted his arm. "We'll make a pirate of you yet."

"Hm, nice try." He said, extending his wrist blades. "I'm not likely to give these up in a hurry."

"Alright, I'd better be off then." Kenway said, motionlessly signalling the four to leave the ship. "I'll see you lads later."

They waved goodbye and stepped off the Jackdaw and back onto the docks as it set sail.

"What do you think is in the Observatory, Thomas?" Jemima asked as Thatch and Hornigold left the pair standing at the docks, watching the Jackdaw disappear.

"Inside, I think it looks like a palace. A huge white wall where it shows where every man is."

"I think, it's a dark, gloomy cave, hidden underwater. I think there's a magical dome where you can see these visions, illuminating the cave like light bouncing off the water." She breathed, her eyes glassy as she gazed at the horizon.

Thomas laughed.

"You're a funny kid."

"Am not." She frowned, snapping back to the real world.

"Are so. Dreaming of magical places under the sea."

"It's better than a fancy palace."

"At least mine's realistic."

"So's mine!"

"Is not."

"Is so!"

"Ah, shut up you two!" Thatch barked, returning. "Bickering like children, you are. The Observatory doesn't exist. End of discussion. Now get your hides in gear, we're setting sail and if I hear any more tripe about this Observatory and the Sage, I'm throwing you overboard!"

"Aye, captain." Jemima sighed, rolling her eyes.

Thatch flashed a warning at his daughter and she, although reluctantly, bowed her head in submission.

"Get aboard, lad." He commanded and she did so, Thomas beside her as she stomped up the ship.

"Your father doesn't like you talking about all this magical stuff, does he?" Thomas whispered as they leant against the side of the ship.

"No." She grumbled. "I used to talk about it all the time back home, to my mother. She didn't listen much, she just kinda nodded and hummed. But at least it sounded as if someone agreed."

Thomas glanced over to Thatch.

"He's just a believer of what he can see."

"He'll see it one day." Jemima said assuredly. "And then he'll know things like that exist and maybe listen to me more often."

"That's the spirit." Thomas smiled and patted her back, leaving to help the crew as they pulled out into open water.

Jemima turned around to face the sea and closed her eyes. She could smell the salt of the sea and feel the warm sun on her face. They were drawing her closer to her prize, she knew it.


	12. 12 A Mermaid By A Waterfall

They docked the ship not too far off from the island, boarding a smaller boat to carry them the rest of the way. Kidd waited for them on the shore, waving as they came into view.

"Hallo, Kidd." Thatch greeted, stepping off the rowboat as it reached land.

"Good to see ye," Kidd nodded to the three. "Any word from Kenway?"

"No, but I have good faith he's got that plantation in the palm of his hand."

"Aye." Kidd turned to Jemima. "Jack, mate, I need to talk to you for a bit. Won't be long."

"Sure." She said and left her father and Thomas sitting on the shore.

"How many people know?" Kidd asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Thatch and you, that's all." Jemima said, her voice slipping back to her natural tone, instead of her gruff, masculine voice.

They were silent for a while as they walked along the shore, tiny crabs scuttling past, burying themselves in the sand.

"Why do we need to pretend to be men?" Jemima asked. "It wasn't my choice. People would treat me the same if I was Jemima Thatch, instead of Jack Thatch."

"So that's your real name," Kidd mused. "We wear this outfit not to be treated the same, but different. Why do you think your father made you wear trousers instead of skirts? Why he made you hide your hair? Or wrap up your chest?"

Jemima bowed her head.

"Women have every right to be on a ship and are every bit as dangerous, if not, more than men. After all, ships are named after women, they're 'shes', aren't they? But they don't see that. We are things to them, things for them to use. So we dress as men for them to respect us. Because no man respects a woman."

"Maybe they would." Jemima said, turning over her shoulder to see her father and Thomas, chatting over a small bonfire.

Kidd laughed.

"Always looking for the good in people." He grinned. "But think about it. What would happen if they found out you were a woman?"

Jemima said nothing. She thought of the stories she had heard from the sailors, of men that had taken a woman against her will, treating her like an object, a plaything with little use.

"We are men for a reason, Jemima."

It was strange to hear her real name spoken. Her father rarely said it, so hearing it from another voice sounded very strange indeed.

"What's your real name then?" Jemima asked as the two stepped among the dense jungle, overcoming the island.

"Mary Read." Kidd said.

Jemima looked about, listening to the faint crash of the waves behind them, the rustle of leaves and the cry of the monkeys that bounced above them.

"Where are we going?" She asked, noting the growing roar of a waterfall.

"When was the last time you had a good wash?" Mary replied with a question.

Jemima frowned.

"Uuuh, a long while ago. I can't exactly wash in the sea with the crew."

Mary grinned as they arrived at the waterfall, the water crashing against the smooth stone, trailing down to a shallow river.

"The river is just deep enough to bathe in, but stand under the waterfall and it'll take off all that dirt you've gathered."

"Ah, Mary!" Jemima laughed, pulling off her hat and untying her hair, shaking her head so her hair fell loose down her back. "This is great!"

"I'll keep watch, just in case." Mary smiled. "Go on."

Jemima jumped up to the rushing water, throwing down her coat, kicking off her boots, unwrapping her belt, pulling off her shirt and trousers and unravelling the fabric strips that concealed her chest. As the water fell on her face, she smiled, feeling it rush over her body, drenching her hair. She glanced down to the river, formed by the waterfall and with a squeal of joy, she leapt down into it.

Laughing, she broke the surface, twisting her body around in the cool water.

The moment seemed to call for song, so Jemima did so. Her voice was naturally low, but it still held a sweet, feminine tone that would raise suspicions among the crew if she joined in with their song, even though she longed too. So now was as good a time as any.

"Of all the money that e'er I had,

I spent it in good company,

And all the harm I've ever done,

Alas it was to none but me,

And all I've done for want of wit,

To memory now I can't recall,

So fill to me the parting glass,

Goodnight and joy be to you all."

Thomas stopped listening to Thatch's drunken ramblings and turned his attention to the faint voice in the distance, nearly masked by the waves.

"Ah, where you off to, lad?" Thatch asked as Thomas stood.

"Gotta piss." He lied and followed the voice.

He blinked back and forth from Eagle Vision to normal sight, taking a higher course as he leapt through the trees, tracing the sound.

The crash of the waterfall greeted him and it was Kidd that he saw first, facing away, playing with a strange tube. He switched to Eagle Vision and nearly fell out of the tree as he found the gold form. He blinked back and watched the girl sing, her eyes closed as she ran her hands down her long, dark hair. Her lower body was obscured by the water which made him question the tales he'd been told while aboard the ship. Was she a mermaid? Was she one of those beautiful creatures that used their voices to lure men to their doom? But something was familiar about her.

The girl turned and looked up.

"Mary..." She gasped, covering herself as she spotted him.

Mary spun, the tube to her lips, sending a dart flying into the assassin's neck. He winced, but hardly had time to react further as his eyes rolled back and he fell.

"Thomas!" Jemima cried, throwing her clothes back on as she ran to him. "Mary, what have you done?"

"It's a sleep dart, don't worry. And I'm sure he's had harder falls."

"He's seen me! What do I do?" Jemima panicked, fixing her outfit so she could return to her male façade, although, by now, she didn't see much point.

"Relax. Take his legs, I've got a plan." Mary gripped Thomas under his arms and together, they dragged him through the forest, back to Thatch.

"Some piss he had!" Thatch cackled as he saw the three of them approach.

"He'll be awake in a bit," Mary told her. "Just follow my lead."

Sure enough, Thomas blinked, wincing as he stretched, curiously looking around.

"What happened?"

"We found you passed out, mate." Mary said. "You were babbling about some girl in a waterfall."

Thomas stared at the sky, thinking.

"Aye." He said. "I remember. It was some dream. She was singing so beautifully and her body was perfection-"

"Right, I think that's someone telling you to lay off the drink for a while." Jemima said, trying to hide her red face.

They turned away from Thomas as Thatch began to sing a mash up of shanties, badly. He waved a bottle about, above his head and Jemima raised an eyebrow at the litter of empty bottles beside her father.

"Really?"

Thomas shrugged, sitting up.

"He said he was thirsty."

"He would." She said, slumping to the ground beside Mary. "Don't tell me he had more while he was steering the ship."

"Fine, I won't tell you." Thomas said and Jemima groaned.

"Ah, leave off me, lass!" Thatch mumbled and the two women exchanged a panicked look.

"Lass?" Thomas remarked, his brows furrowed.

"Er, aye." Jemima nodded. "He calls me lass when he's annoyed, sometimes thinks I'm a girl."

"Ah." Thomas nodded, still curious, but thought no more of it as Adé and Kenway joined them.

"Here's to our Pirate Republic, lads!" Thatch toasted, raising his bottle. "We're prosperous and free, and out of the reach of kings, clergy and debt collectors."

"Near five hundred men now pledge their allegiance to the Brethren of the Coast in Nassau. Not a bad number." Mary said as Kenway and Adé sat down beside them.

"Truth." Thatch nodded. "Yet we lack sturdy defences. If the king were to attack the town, he'd trample us."

"Then let us find the Observatory." Kenway said, to which both Thomas and Jemima nodded to. "If it does what these Templars claim, we'll be unbeatable."

"Not that twaddle again, Kenway." Thatch growled, casting a cautionary look towards his daughter to stay out of it. "That's a story for schoolboys. I mean proper defences. Steal a galleon. Ship all the guns to one side. Would make a nice ornament for one of our harbours."

"It will not be easy to steal a full Spanish galleon." Adé warned. "Have you one in mind?"

"I do, sir." Thatch drunkenly drawled. "And I'll show you. She's a fussock she is. Fat and slow." He cackled, raising the bottle to his lips.

"Right, that's enough for you, I think." Jemima said abruptly, snatching the bottle from her growling father's hands.

"Fine." He grumbled.

It wasn't long before Thatch began snoring, the deafening noise replacing the calming sound of the waves.

"Let's give him a while to sober up," Kenway decided. "Then we'll go after this ship of his."

"Aye." Thomas agreed, nudging the pirate's leg with his foot. "It may be a while."

"That's fine by me." Kenway said and lay back, arms folded behind his head.

In the peaceful nothingness, the six of them sat, saying little, just enjoying each other's company. Soon, they'd be out on the water again, living as pirates should, but for now, they were no one but simple men, sharing a drink among friends. And that was fine by them.


	13. 13 The Flight Of The Jackdaw

"Your Jackdaw handles nice." Thatch nodded, standing beside Kenway as his ship sailed smoothly through the waves. "Pinched her from the Spanish, was it?"

"Aye, in the midst of a hurricane." Kenway grinned.

"Just before the treasure fleet was smashed against the shore." Adé added.

"Was the haul aboard as rich as men are saying?" Thatch inquired.

"A thousand times that." Kenway said. "I reckon a million pounds worth of Reales were sunk that day."

"Devil love a hurricane!" Thatch remarked. "Might have a dive there one day. See what we can rummage up."

"Diving them wrecks would be a nice change of pace for us." Adé said. "No need for violent actions against merchants and such."

"Well!" Thatch exclaimed. "That's some soft talk coming from a pirate."

Jemima lowered her head, staring at her father darkly through her eyelashes.

"And as it happens... I mostly agree." He admitted. "We'll save the clashing of cutlasses for the military, and them that get in our way."

The Jackdaw crossed the border, entering a restricted area.

"Jack, Thomas, head down to the front. We could use some extra eyes. Yell if you see any ships that have spotted us."

The two left Kenway to find the 'El Arca Del Maestro' and jogged down to the front of the ship, perching on the edge as they peered into the distance, analysing the various ships.

"There, man o' war." Thomas pointed to a ship in the distance.

"I can't see it." Jemima squinted.

"Oh, yeah, forgot." Thomas sighed sarcastically. "Assassin." He said, pointing to himself.

She groaned.

"You've got that weird sight thing, don't you."

"Aye." He grinned.

"Well at least it's come in handy." She turned, facing Kenway. "Man o' war, straight ahead!" She roared. "Watch out, Kenway!"

"Aye, will do!" He called back and changed course, heading around it.

The rain pounded down, assisted by the sea spray, the two were soon drenched.

"I could do with my assassin hood right now." Thomas mumbled, pulling off his bandana, wringing the water out of it and his saturated hair.

"That's where hats come in handy." Jemima tapped her own, pulling it down further over her face.

However, the rain soon passed, the warm midday sun drying their wet hair and clothes.

"Jack, look!" Thomas pointed as a brig, flanked by two gunships came into view, heading for the ship they were tailing.

"Allies?" She asked.

Then, the ship engaged in battle, firing at the brig and the gunships, the three firing back.

"Allies." Thomas confirmed with a grin.

But his grin faded as the gunships and the brig were soon defeated and then he switched back to his Eagle Vision, discovering the targets that swept across the water, aimed for the Jackdaw.

"Mortars, Kenway!" He roared, gripping to the ship as the Jackdaw swung, avoiding the mortar fire.

Jemima and Thomas watched as the captain sent heavy shot slicing through the air but it only seemed to bounce off the galleon. Before the Jackdaw could reach it, eight Spanish gunboats sailed for them, surrounding them to protect the galleon as it fled to safety.

The Jackdaw whipped back around firing heavy shot, mortar fire and its swivel gun at the gunboats, focusing on its weak points. Every hit deemed a cheer from the crew, more so when one succumbed to the writhing depths. As the Jackdaw passed the wreckage, the crew heaved up crates of loot onto the deck, scurrying back and forth from their position on the guns and the retrieval of goods.

The ship slowed as Kenway used his spyglass, peering at the galleon they were following. Jemima and Thomas saw him briefly converse with Thatch before Jemima's father left the captain and approached the two.

"So, what now?" She asked.

"Now, we wait until dark." He sighed. "Kenway's afraid du Casse will recognise the ship, being stolen and all."

"Julien du Casse is on that ship?" Thomas asked, surprised.

"Aye, you know him?"

"Know of him, and I'd very much like to meet him." Thomas replied ominously, his wrist blade springing out.

"Save it for later, lad." Thatch grinned at the young man's hunger for blood, patting his shoulder. "They'll be plenty of time for that soon enough."

Thomas smiled, imagining the downfall of this group of Templars by his hand.

"Aye. I look forward to it."


	14. 14 The Place Of Women

"Gentlemen!" Kenway called marching up the deck. "As is custom among our kind, we do not plunge headlong into folly on the orders of a single madman, but act according to our own collective madness." He jumped onto the edge of the ship, addressing his crew, brandishing a cutlass as he spoke. "The object of our attention is a square-rigged galleon, and we want her for the advantage she'll bring Nassau. So I'll put it to the vote. All those in favour of storming this cove and taking this ship, stomp and shout 'Aye!'"

The crew's feet thundered against the deck as the shouted their reply, in favour of Kenway's plan.

"Those who oppose, whimper 'Nay'."

As silence washed over the crew, Kenway nodded and jumped down, tossing the cutlass back to one of his crew, heading for Thatch and Jemima.

"Never was the King's council so unified." Kenway said, grinning as he passed.

Kenway jogged to the other side of the ship and threw himself over, diving into the water below.

"Thomas!" Jemima cried as the assassin made his way to follow him. "Where are you going?"

"He's going after du Casse." Thomas replied, speaking over his shoulder. "I want to bring that Templar bastard down."

"Leave this one for Kenway." Jemima said, putting a hand on his shoulder, watching the pirate swim out to shore. "There's plenty more to pick off. Just be patient."

He stepped back, smiling.

"Alright. But you must know, I'm a very impatient person."

"I can tell." Jemima raised and eyebrow, nodding to his wrist blade, already extended in anticipation of the assassination of du Casse.

He rolled his eyes and retracted it.

"What do you think of mermaids?" Thomas asked, staring off into the horizon as he recalled his 'dream'.

"As in, do I think they exist?"

"Aye. And what do you think they look like?"

Jemima paused. She'd always been open to the idea of any supernatural and abnormal being's existence, so why not mermaids?

"I think they're real. I think they look like witches, hair made of seaweed, sharp claws and teeth, ready to tear the flesh off-"

"Alright, lad." Thomas laughed. "Before your imagination runs away with you."

"What about you then? Do you think they're real?"

"Maybe. I saw one, in a dream."

"Oh?"

"Do you remember when I passed out a while ago, you and Kidd found me?"

"Aye..." Jemima said, remembering the events, unnervingly.

"I saw this woman, bathing by a waterfall. She was singing and her voice!" He breathed, gazing at the horizon. "She was so beautiful, she had long dark hair and the perfect body."

"Easy now, mate." Jemima warned, turning away. "You have a girl back home, remember?"

Thomas stopped. He had forgotten. For that brief moment, the 'mermaid' had replaced his thoughts of his girl back in England. He nearly felt guilty.

"What's her name anyway?" Jemima asked in an attempt to make him forget about his 'dream'. "You never told us before."

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Lovett."

"Pretty name. Does it match her face?"

"Aye." He smiled. "She's the most beautiful woman in all of England."

"Just England?"

"If that woman in my dream was real, she'd be the most beautiful woman in the world." He sighed.

As Thatch joined them, Thomas snapped back. He glanced to Jemima and was curious of her lack of eye contact but thought nothing of it.

"Right." Thatch said, taking the helm. "Let's bring this ship around, slowly."

With Thatch steering the Jackdaw, Jemima and Thomas watched as it edged around the island, creeping into the docks on the other side.

"There!" Jemima pointed at a figure, poised on the mast of the galleon.

Then, the figure flew, diving towards the form of du Casse who unknowingly wandered into the trap.

"The cove is ours!" Called Kenway, stepping away from the body of the Templar, sighting the Jackdaw come into view.

The crew roared in triumph as the Jackdaw pulled up alongside the galleon.

"Nicely done, Kenway!" Thatch nodded as the surviving crew members of the galleon leapt over board, terrified of the ship full of pirates.

Kenway bowed mockingly and jumped back aboard the Jackdaw. They docked the ship and almost all the crew climbed up to inspect the galleon, studying the magnificent ship and all its spoils.

"So how's the pirate life suiting you, Thomas?" Jemima grinned as they walked along the shore.

"If I'm honest, I'm rather enjoying it, maybe even more so than the life of an assassin." He said, almost guiltily as he played with the straps on his wrist blade.

"Really? Huh, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Aye, I feel more at home here, than back in London."

"Why?"

"I'm loyal to the Brotherhood, but since Walpole became a traitor, it's all been speaking in hushed tones, suspicious glances, not trusting each other. Here, I feel like I'm one of you and not an outsider. All that I've met here are dear to me," Thomas glanced over his shoulder, watching Kenway in the distance. "Despite their questionable morals."

"Aye, you're one of us, mate." She smiled and patted his shoulder. "But don't you miss London, your girl?"

He nodded.

"Aye, I do. But it's becoming lost to me. I can't picture the town anymore, I don't remember her face..." He trailed off, his eyes glassy as if he were trying to focus on London before his very eyes.

"You'll go back there one day, it'll be like you never left." She assured him.

"Ah, lad, you're so optimistic." Thomas gave a gentle smile. "I haven't heard a word from her since she left me two years ago. Who's to say she hasn't moved on, found someone else?"

"Come on, mate." Jemima sighed. "Have a little faith! Maybe she is waiting for you, watching the sea each day to see if there's a ship coming into port, one with her bonny sailor boy upon it."

"I'm no 'bonny sailor boy'." He laughed.

"Aye, you are to her." She grinned.

There was a brief silence as their laughter faded away, drawn back like the waves that lapped on the shore.

"So have you got a lass, Jack?" Thomas asked.

She shook her head, hiding her smile. She'd have some mighty explaining to do to her father if she did.

"Really? I thought any young pirate with a mischievous smile and wicked eyes could grab a girl wherever he chooses."

"Well I haven't, and neither has Kidd."

"Aye, good point. Maybe it's just because you hold women so highly in your sight that you don't feel worthy in their presence."

"No, we just see them as equals."

"They're not equal to us," Thomas laughed. "A woman can't fire a shot, or fight with a cutlass, she just has to stand there and look pretty."

Jemima glared. How she wished she could let her hair down and scream at him that this woman could do all that he said, and best him. To tell him that he knew two young women who were pirates and every bit as fearsome as the next man.

But she didn't.

"The day that a woman bests me in a fight, I'll stand with you and Kidd. In fact, I'll give one of my wrist blades to the victor." Thomas announced.

"Remember that." She warned.

"You alright there, lass?" Thatch asked his daughter, sitting down beside her as she sat on the shore, her chin resting on her knees.

"Aye. Just thinking." Jemima mumbled, watching the sun rise from under the horizon.

"What about?"

"Do you think women have any place aboard a ship?"

Thatch paused a moment.

"I think you've proved that."

"But I haven't." She said, turning to face him. "I've proved a woman can be disguised as a man, but what if I were myself? What would happen then?"

"I don't want to think about it." Thatch said.

Jemima didn't want to either. Maybe Thomas was right. Maybe women didn't have any right to be a pirate.

"Right, come on." Thatch said, standing up, patting her shoulder.

"Why? Where are we going?" She asked, getting to her feet.

"We're heading back to Nassua, and we're taking that galleon with us."

The preparations had already been made aboard the galleon, the crew had just finished loading the necessary supplies as Thatch and his daughter boarded.

"All hands on deck!" Thatch roared as he spun the wheel, sending the ship out into the open sea.

Jemima stood at the back of the galleon, watching the distance between them and the island grow. In the warm glow of the early morning, a figure was illuminated, standing on the shore. As the figure raised his arm and waved, Jemima waved back.

"I'll see ya later, Thomas." She whispered.


	15. 15 Discoveries

_Great Inagua, March 1716_

"Morning, Thomas." Mary said, crouching beside the assassin, curled up in the sandy grass.

"Uuh, mornin' Kidd." He groaned.

"Thatch and Jack have taken the galleon to Nassau." She said, stepping back as he rose.

"Aye, I saw. I couldn't sleep for the longest time, only just dropped off really."

"Too bad."

"Where's Kenway?" He yawned, stretching.

"Just over here." She tilted her head towards the figure, dozing soundly nearby.

"Mmm... Ah... Kidd." Kenway grumbled as Mary poked the sleeping pirate.

Thomas kept his distance, wary of the dangers an awoken pirate caused.

"Wake up, Kenway." She said, standing below the slanting tree that he lay on.

She jabbed him with the twig again and he snatched it from her hands, throwing it to the side.

"Is Thatch about?" He asked, groggily jumping down from his sleeping place.

"He left this morning with the galleon." Mary told him. "Has faith we'll discover a good use for this old cove ourselves."

"Aye." Kenway agreed. "We'll make something of it in time." He stepped down to the shore, his arms swinging lazily by his sides as he looked about. "We could keep a fleet here, if we liked. And with a bit of fixing up, it'd be decent. Place to call home. Might even convince my wife to come one day."

"You're married, are ya?" Thomas asked.

"In God's eyes, I am." Kenway turned away. "She left me some time ago."

Thomas bowed his head. He knew what that was like.

"Even so, keep that fact hid away. Most of these pirates don't respect a man with higher commitment than rum and plunder." Kidd remarked.

"Don't I know it." Thomas sighed.

"'Pon my honour." Kenway promised. "Let me know if you find anything."

Mary nodded and jogged away, heading into the jungle.

"You coming, Kenway?" Thomas asked, following her.

"In a bit, lad. Go on, I'll catch you up."

As Kenway remained at the shore, searching around for hidden treasures, Thomas ran after the disguised pirate.

"Kidd, wait up!"

They ran on through the jungle, the soft cry of wildlife surrounding them as they thundered on. Mary led the way, slowing to a jog as she reached a cluster of stone towers.

"Wait." She held up a hand, examining the otherwise inconspicuous looking structures.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. He followed her gaze, blinking to his Eagle Vision. Sure enough, the stone towers were glowing. He gasped, turning back to normal sight, staring Mary straight in the eyes.

"You're an assassin." He said.

"Aye." Mary raised her chin, folding her arms. "You gonna tell anyone?"

"Why not?"

"Because Templar spies are everywhere. Just because you're stupid enough to tell everyone you meet, doesn't mean I have to."

She turned away.

"You're a good liar." He nodded.

Mary turned back with a grin.

"Better than you know."

"So, you're not after the Sage because you want treasure, you want to kill him." Thomas said.

"Aye. We're working for the same aim. But it's best Kenway doesn't know about that just yet. If he knows two assassins are going to try to kill his target, he'll not let us travel with him."

Thomas nodded.

"Agreed. So what's this then?" Thomas asked, peering at the structure.

"Not sure." Mary said.

"I can find out." Thomas offered and stepped towards the ruins.

"Wait," Mary stopped him. "Maybe we should let Kenway look."

"Why?"

"I have a feeling. That's all."

Mary ran off to fetch Kenway, leaving Thomas to wander about the ruins for himself. They seemed ancient, lost in the jungle, unseen by man for years.

"Come on, man!" He heard, and Mary jumped back down the slope, Kenway in her wake.

He eventually caught up with her as she stopped, waiting for him, standing among stone structures.

"Odd looking things, aren't they?" Mary said, looking up at them. "Old and weathered."

"Is this what they call Mayan?" Kenway asked, stepping around them. "Or is it Aztec?"

"Are you good with riddles, Edward? Puzzles and ponderings and the like?"

"No worse than the next man. Why?"

"I think you've a natural gift for it. The way you think and work. The way you understand the world."

"Well I don't know about that. You're talking of riddles now and I don't understand a word."

Mary looked around and faced a shorter stone tower.

"Clamber on this thing here, will you? Help me solve something."

Kenway raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told.

"Concentrate and focus all your senses." Mary said. "Look past shadow and sound, deep into matter, until you see and hear a kind of shimmering."

"A shimmering?"

"You understand?"

"I think so. I've seen its like before. Glowing, like moonlight on the ocean."

Mary turned her head towards Thomas.

"Watch this."

Kenway perched atop the towers and he blinked, transforming his sight.

"Ah! Right, I know this feeling. I have since I was a lad. It's like using every sense at once, isn't it? To see sounds and hear shapes. Quite a combination."

They watched the pirate stare intently at the ground, as if studying a puzzle. When he was finished, he looked to the side, and jumped down, heading for that spot.

By now, Thomas was dumbstruck.

"Every man and woman on this earth has in them a kind of hidden intuition, hidden deep away." Mary said, approaching Kenway as he unsheathed his sword, using it to pull up a rock that covered his prize.

"You are a gifted man, Edward." She nodded as Kenway lifted the Mayan treasure.

"Has a strange look. Is it worth something?"

"Nothing you can spend. But if you find all of 'em, it'll lead to something grand."

"How many?"

"A few dozen, I think." She said as Kenway weighed the treasure in his hand. "This way. I've something else to show you."

Mary led the way, Thomas and Kenway following after her as she ran on through the jungle.

"I found something else just here." She called. "I think you'll take to this secret much faster."

"Now this has the makings of a mystery." He said to Thomas.

"It's good, innit? Only wait 'til you see what lies at the end!" Mary said as she ducked into a tunnel, sprinting along.

They ran through the decrepit tunnel, their footsteps echoing, harmonising with the dripping of water. The tunnel led to something more man-made, brick walls and lamps, cobbled floors and sacks littered about.

"Here we are." Mary said, pointing to their left. "What do you think?"

Beside them was a large rock, above it, chests and crates, their contents determined.

"I think Monsieur du Casse was a man of many secrets." Kenway murmured.

"Aye and look here," Mary stepped forward, "a solid staircase leading God knows where."

"What do you suppose lies at the top?" Thomas asked, following the two up into the unknown.

"From what I knew of Du Casse, wouldn't be surprised to find eclectic instruments of torture and villainy." Kenway said.

"Aye," Thomas agreed. "An iron maiden, or a collection of thumbscrews."

"Or a pear of anguish!" Mary added as they reached the top of the stairs, the room unveiled.

The room took both men by surprise. It was civilised, shrubbery arranged here and there with crates and boxes scattered about. The lighting was pleasant and lacked the certain ominous atmosphere usually required for torture chambers.

Kenway caught sight of a uniform, an assassins uniform on closer inspection, still hanging on the skeletal form of the last man to wear it. It hung behind a locked gate, golden decorative key holes lined down it.

"Not a nice way to kick off." Kenway remarked. "But that is some damn fine gear."

"Try the key you took from Du Casse." Mary suggested.

Kenway stepped forward, twisting the key in one of the locks, watching as the metal bar pulled back.

"That's one. Only four left." He said, turning back to Mary who was studying a large roll of parchment, draped across a desk.

"Aye." She said. "It might be that these four Templars have them. See the names here? They've been sent to kill these four targets."

"Hang me," Kenway exclaimed. "That's the map I sold to Governor Torres in Havana."

"I may do just that." Thomas growled as Mary narrowed her eyes.

"He said it marked the locations of 'Assassin' encampments." Kenway explained.

"You think maybe you owe them a bit of warning then?" Mary said darkly. "If you have any kind of heart beating in that chest?"

"S'pose I could." He said, stepping away from the map. "If it leads me to the other four keys."

"Damn you, Kenway." Thomas muttered and walked away with Mary, the pirate grinning remorselessly.

"A bad excuse is better than none at all." She sighed.

Thomas and Mary left the Templar treasure, Kenway lingering behind.

"That bloody pirate." Thomas muttered.

"Thomas, I know you're mad, so am I, but Kenway is trying to fix this-"

"Only if there's a prize in it for him!" He exclaimed. "Kenway doesn't give two shits if an assassin like us is in danger. If he wasn't paid for it, he'd let us die."

"I don't believe that."

"Kidd, it doesn't take a genius to know that Kenway is a selfish, heartless prick."

"Aye, he's that, but he's our friend. If we were in danger, he'd help us in any way he could."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

The two assassins came out of the tunnel, leaving from the other side. They jogged along the shore, Thomas still seething at the betrayal as Mary constantly looked over her shoulder to see if Kenway was following them.

As they reached the port, Mary boarded a ship, docked beside the Jackdaw.

"You're leaving?" Thomas asked, staying on the docks.

"Aye. Care to join me?"

Thomas shook his head.

"I need to keep an eye on Kenway. Who knows who else he could sell us out to."

"Have a little faith, lad." She sighed. "But it'll probably do him good to have a friend with a good heart like yours."

"Friend? We're not friends."

"Give him time."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort but as they heard the thumping of feet against wood, he turned to see the pirate arrive.

"Leaving already?" Kenway asked, approaching the ship.

"I think this cove suits you best, Edward." Mary said.

"Better than that costume does." Thomas muttered bitterly.

"Oh, come on now..." He sighed. "We're pirates, Thomas, Kidd. We take as we please and become who we like. Self-made men!"

"But that look ain't you. It's not who you are." She told him.

"Who am I then?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Hard to tell some days. All I know is you like dangerous prizes."

"Like the Observatory? I think you know more about that than you let on in Nassau." He accused as the ship pulled away.

"You noticed that, did ya?" She grinned. "Meet me at twenty degrees, three minutes latitude, just off the coast of Yucatan. I'll have something to show you there in a few weeks time. And Thomas?"

"Aye?"

The ship drew further and further away, Mary's voice almost got lost in the gentle wind as she called out.

"Take care of Kenway!"


	16. 16 A Defiant Daughter

"Hurry up, Sam!" Jemima called as she swung through the rigging, clambering up like a monkey does through trees.

"Slow down!" He panted, regularly pausing as he chased her.

"Ah, come on!" She stopped, grinning. "If you're all out of breath now, then you can't teach me swordplay!"

"I've taught you everything I know," Sam breathed. "In fact, you should be teaching me!"

She laughed and scrambled down the mast, back to the deck. Ever since Thatch had taken full responsibility of his daughter, one of the sailors, Sam, had always been there to teach her the ways of a pirate. He didn't know her secret but he was one of her closest friends. Of course, there had been times where he had nearly found out, or she had desperately wanted to tell him, but her father always said the same thing.

"They're pirates, lass. They won't respect you for _who_ you are. They'll use you for _what_ you are."

Jemima sighed. One day, everyone will know of her true identity and know what a fearsome pirate she was. No one would cross her.

She stepped to the side of the ship, genuinely impressed by the size and majesty of the galleon. She smiled to herself, thinking of the friends she made. The wild, brash Kenway, the mysterious Mary and the just, loyal Thomas. She wished she could tell them who she really was but how would they react? She felt as if she could trust them, but her father's warnings had plagued her enough to not risk it.

"Hey, Jack? You okay?" Sam asked, making her jump.

"Aye, okay enough to give you a good kicking!" She recovered, grinning, drawing her sword. "Let's have at ya then!"

She lunged and he only just managed to deflect the blade at the last second. They battled on, the clashing of blades attracting the attention of the rest of the crew. One by one, they left their duties to gather around the fight.

"Come on, Jack!"

"Hit 'im, Sam!"

Choruses of cheers echoed around them, urging Sam and Jemima to work quicker, their swords swiping at each, the blows either parried or dodged. Sam was a skilled swordsman, an equal match for Jemima, so the fight continued, with no clear winner.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jemima saw the form of an eagle soar over the ship, its cry piercing through the air, piercing through her.

At the sound, she jolted and caught off guard, Sam seized his chance. His cutlass sliced her arm, its hilt smacking into her forehead. Jemima fell back, dazed, her hat skidding across the deck, loose strands of hair unravelling from the knot she'd tied it in.

"What's going on?" Thatch growled as he stepped out of the Captain's cabin.

All was silent as he walked closer. He stopped at a gunpowder barrel and picking up a flagon, he scooped up a decent amount of gunpowder. To the other side of him was a bottle of rum and he poured it into the flagon, the crew avidly watching his every movement. Swirling the concoction with his finger, he took a swig, without flinching.

As he stepped towards them, the crew parted, making the scene clear to him. Thatch caught sight of his daughter, sprawled on the floor, her hair loose. He snarled, shoving the flagon into the hands of one of the crew members before snatching up Jemima's hat. He helped her up and Jemima hurriedly hid her long hair under her hat, still nursing the bruise on her forehead.

"What happened here?" His voice was like thunder, his eyes like lightning. The man was a storm.

"It was just a fight, father." Jemima told him, shaking his hand off her arm. "I'm fine."

"Who was it? Who hit you?"

The crew was silent, as was Jemima.

"I did." Sam said, stepping forward.

"You, lad." Thatch growled, pointing a finger. "You are on thin ice. Hurt him again and you're overboard."

"Father, I'm fine." Jemima retorted.

Thatch looked from Sam to his daughter.

"Come with me." He ordered and reluctantly, Jemima followed him.

Thatch slammed the cabin door behind her and sat down heavily at the table. He signalled for her to sit down and she did so, her hands clasped.

"You've got to stop this, lass." Thatch said, his voice resigned.

"I can't help it. It's what pirates do, we fight-"

"Not with him."

"What?"

Thatch sighed.

"That boy, Sam. He's getting close to you."

"Yeah, he's my friend."

"But not for long. One day, he'll find out and then-"

"And then what?!" Jemima slammed her hands down on the table. "He'll rape me?!"

"That's what men do when they find a woman they want!"

"I'm not something they can just take! I'm a fighter, they'd die before they can touch me! Don't you understand?!"

"Jemima, listen-"

"No! You listen!" She roared. "My entire existence on this ship has been ruled by you! I don't ever get a say on how to live my life! Well, now, I'm changing that. When I choose, he'll know- the whole crew will know- that I'm a woman. And you'll see, I'll be treated the same way I was before."

"That'd be a bad move, lass."

"It's my move to make." She snarled and turned for the door.

"Jemima, you always know exactly how another person is feeling, please, put yourself in my place for just a moment!"

She paused, but her anger clouded her thoughts and all she could think of was her overprotective father making all her decisions for her.

"You don't dictate my life anymore, father." She said, her voice firm. "From now on, I decide."

And with that, she left.


	17. 17 A Dark Horizon

The Jackdaw pulled up alongside the island, out of sight.

"Looks like assassins, Captain." Adé said, noting the white figures that patrolled the shore further on.

"Better keep a low profile then." Kenway said, jumping up the side of the ship.

"Don't you dare kill any of those assassins." Thomas growled. "If you do," he extended his wrist blade, "I will hunt you down and make you pay the price in blood."

Kenway put his hand on his heart.

"I swear I'll not hurt a soul." He smiled, grabbing a rope. "For my sake anyway."

Kenway disappeared, swinging out into the water. Adé and Thomas watched him resurface and clamber up to the rocky shore. As he scaled the wall and hauled himself up, the two lost sight of him.

"So, tell me, Thomas," Adé said, leaning against the side of the ship. "What's it like to be an assassin?"

"It's wild," he said, folding his arms, looking up to the sky as he thought of all the contracts he's carried out. "To your target, you're almost as insignificant as a shadow but at the last second, before you deal that killing blow, you're the most important man in the world. You hold a life in your hands, sometimes the others prefer not to think about it, but can you imagine how powerful you feel? The excitement of the chase, the feel of the wind whipping at your uniform as you run across the rooftops, it's fantastic."

"It sounds it. And compared to the life of a pirate?"

"It's different, that's for sure. If you prefer a solitary life, the Brotherhood in England is the place to be."

"Was that bitterness I heard?" Adé raised an eyebrow.

Thomas sighed.

"Ever since Walpole betrayed us, the Brotherhood has been very cut off from the other Brotherhoods and has disclosed very little information to us assassins. I didn't even know there was a Brotherhood here until not to long ago."

"Maybe the Brotherhood here would be more suited to you?"

"Aye, maybe." Thomas peered over the side of the ship, trying to catch sight of the hooded form of Kenway among the shrubbery and the assassins. "I'd like to meet him, the Master Assassin around here."

"So would I. I'm considering giving up this life in exchange for a more honourable one, where I can follow a creed instead of a half drunken man that can steer a ship."

"Truly?"

"Aye. The Brotherhood in England probably wouldn't treat me too kindly with my skin colour. Here, they'd treat me as an equal."

"You have a point." Thomas nodded. "But I have to go back to England at some point."

"Ah, yes. You've got a girl back home."

"Aye, if I leave it too long, she'll have forgotten about me."

"Love doesn't forget, Thomas."

"Her love does." He sighed.

"Are you trying to win her back? Is that it?"

"Well, yes, but she still cares for me-"

"Has she written to you?"

"No, but-"

"Have you received word that she's asking you to return back to England?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Look, lad, I don't know much but it sounds as if you've lost her. By all means, go back to England but don't expect her to be waiting."

"You don't know her, Adé." Thomas clenched his fists. "And I do. She'll be waiting."

Suddenly, Adé stood up straight, rushing to the opposite side of the deck.

"What's up, mate?" Thomas asked, watching him peer over the edge.

"There. Tell me what you see." Adé pointed to the horizon.

In the glare of the sunlight, it was almost impossible to see, but Thomas narrowed his eyes, holding up his hand to block the light.

"It's a ship." He remarked.

"Look closer."

"It's a big ship?" He shrugged. "What am I meant to say?"

Adé answered with a dark look.

"It's a Templar ship, Thomas. And they're headed right for us."


	18. 18 The New Kenway

Adé's voice tore through the air, commanding the crew to ready for battle. But the Jackdaw's resources were limited and the Templar ship was fast, ominously drawing ever nearer.

"Help us!" Thomas cried to the patrolling assassins who had ran over to investigate the commotion, but they took one look at the Templars and fled.

Before the Jackdaw could even fire a shot, the ship was upon them. Soldiers swung aboard, cutting down any crew member that resisted. Adé drew his sword and Thomas extended his hidden blade but before they could make the attack, they were outnumbered, surrounded and defenceless.

"Lower your weapons and you'll be spared!" One of the soldiers called out.

"Do it." Adé growled to the crew, staring down a soldier that had a sword to his neck.

Thomas glared at another, unstrapping his wrist blades. As he threw them to the floor, the soldier swallowed, uncomfortable around the furious assassin.

The Jackdaw's crew were led off the ship and onto the now vacant shore. They passed more Templar soldiers, occupying the island, taking the assassins place.

"They're everywhere." Thomas breathed, looking around.

Templars patrolled the paths, the treetops, anywhere that they could walk upon. Some held rifles, their eyes flicking to every slight movement that took their attention. These same soldiers stared down at the captured crew as they passed below, a smirk on their victorious faces.

The crew was split up and taken various places across the island and closely guarded with other captured assassins.

Thomas grunted as he was shoved to his knees, Adé beside him. Three soldiers stepped around them, their hands on their swords, wary of any bid to escape.

The two waited, kneeling in silence, for any event to take place, either of their salvation or their doom.

Suddenly, a soldier cried out, doubling over in apparent pain before he drew his sword, a look of madness about him as he darted for another guard.

The soldiers barked for him to stop, but the man was delirious, swinging his sword about in an attempt to kill the others. One unlucky soldier was too slow to defend himself and flew back as the madman's foot slammed into his chest. The soldier tried to stand, but a sword pinned him down. The madman went to pull the sword out of the corpse but the third soldier cut him down.

Adé and Thomas stared up at the soldier, standing breathlessly above the two corpses. Suddenly, he gagged, his eyes rolled back, and collapsed.

"Kenway?" Adé and Thomas gasped at the figure that stood over the three bodies.

"Aye, someone's got to rescue you lot." He said, cutting their bonds and helping them up.

"Thanks, Kenway, but it was you that brought them here, remember."

"Aye, don't remind me."

"I don't have to. You just have to look around and you're reminded of what you've done." Thomas said, rubbing his wrists.

"Alright, alright." Kenway sighed. "Just get back to the Jackdaw. I'll meet you there."

"Okay." Thomas nodded. "Fix this, Edward."

"I'll do my best." Kenway said and he raced away to free the others.

Thomas watched the greedy pirate go. Maybe he was being sincere when he said that, maybe he wasn't. But Kenway was changing, that much was clear. Perhaps, the rogue pirate was becoming more honourable, more just. If he truly wished to resolve what he had done, then already he was a different man to the Edward Kenway that Thomas met at Cape Bonavista two years before hand. Maybe the new Kenway would be a man to make the assassins proud.

But only time will tell.


	19. 19 Letters And Leaving

_Nassau, Bahamas, January 1717_

Thomas leaned back in his seat, taking in the squalid scenery. As he took a sip of rum, he turned to Kenway who sat opposite to him, bent over a piece of paper, scratching down a letter.

"Who you writing to?" He asked.

"My wife, Caroline." He said, barely looking up.

"Ah."

"Why don't you write to your lass?" Kenway suggested, passing him a piece of paper and a spare quill.

Thomas picked up the quill, slowly dipping it in the ink pot. As it hovered above the page, he thought.

What would he write? Would she even receive the letter? Would she even read it?

"So this is the new Libertalia, eh?" A gruff man observed and at the sound, Thomas jolted, a splat on ink staining the page. "Stinks the same as every other squat I've robbed this past year."

"Oy!" Said another, beside him, noting Kenway's expression as he poured over the letter. "Why the long face? You falling in love?"

"With your blouse." Kenway smiled, looking up. "You're welcome to Nassau, gents. Everyone is that does their fair share."

"Fair share?" Growled the gruff man as Kenway stood. "What is this, a fucking monastery?"

"We was lead to believe Nassau was a place where men did as they pleased." The second man told Kenway.

"Save keeping other from doing the same, aye." Thatch said, stepping towards them.

"Captain Thatch, as I live and breath." The gruff man turned. "And what is this magnificent muzzle you've cultivated?" He remarked, seeing Thatch's beard.

"Why fly a black flag when a black beard will do?" Thatch answered. "What brings you two gents this far north?"

"The word is the Cuban government himself is fixing to receive a mess of gold from a nearby fort." The gruff man clapped his hands together. "Until then, it's just sitting there, itching to be took."

"Governor Torres himself, eh?" Thomas nodded. "Sounds promising."

"Welcome to Nassau, Captain Vane, Mister Rackham." Thatch passed a bottle to the new arrivals.

"Now, where..." Rackham drawled, a pipe in his hands as he spoke. "Where can a man find a bit of ruff. D'ya know what I mean?"

Thomas turned back to the letter as Ruckam sauntered over to a pretty red headed girl. His brain was blank. Were there any words under the sun that could describe how he felt?

"Hey, Thomas." Jemima sat down opposite him. "Watcha got there?"

"So far, a blob of ink."

"Well unless whoever you're writing to are admirers of the artist talent of Thomas Young, I'd suggest a new piece of paper." She said, her eyebrow raised.

"Ah, what's the point?" Thomas scrunched up the paper and tossed it over her shoulder. "She won't read it anyway."

"Oh, Thomas." Jemima sighed. "Why do you always have to be so negative? For all you know, she could be sitting there, watching and waiting at the door for a letter from you!"

"Unlikely." He scoffed.

She rolled her eyes and shoved a piece of paper in front of him.

"Write what I say."

Reluctantly, Thomas raised the pen over the paper. His eyes glanced over to her, signalling her to speak.

"My dear Elizabeth,

I have thought of you often during my time at sea. I understand that you may not read this letter, but if you do, know that you are still held dearly in my heart.

I have made new friends and my life is filled with adventure and wonder, I have seen sights you would not believe. But despite this, I would exchange all in a heartbeat to be by your side.

Unfortunately, I cannot return until my mission to find the Sage is complete. The Templars are tracking him as we speak and I must beat them to their goal.

I will write again.

With love,

Thomas."

The assassin rested the pen and looked up at the pirate.

"That was perfect. It was as if you spoke as me." He breathed. "How did you do that?"

"My father always said I had a skill for emphasising with people. I put myself in your position and I spoke from the heart." She smiled.

"You have a way with words that would make any young lady jump into your bed!" Thomas laughed, checking the how well the ink had dried.

Jemima faked a laugh and as Thomas pocketed the letter, Kenway approached them.

"Right, Thomas. We're off." He said, patting Thomas's shoulder.

He stood, smiling as he felt the letter, half his heart, in his pocket. Jemima watched him, pained slightly. As a man, she was expected to do the wooing, to find a woman but that's not what she wanted. She wanted to be a woman, to be found by someone, letters like that written to her.

"Thomas?" She called after him, standing.

"Aye?" He turned back.

"I want to go with you."

Thatch, hearing these words, stepped forward.

"And where would you be going, young sir?" He growled, hands behind his back.

"After Torres." She said. "He has gold."

Thatch looked from his daughter, to Thomas and back to Jemima.

"Father, please. Just this once, can I go without you?" She pleaded.

He slowly turned to Thomas, as if analysing him.

"Fine." He said and Jemima grinned. "But if you get hurt," he pointed to Thomas, "that's your responsibility."

She groaned.

"Aw, father, I can take care of myself-"

"No." He shook his head. "I've been taking care of you for these past years."

She rolled her eyes.

"Alright. Thank you. I'll see you later."

Thatch folded his arms and glowered at his daughter as she jogged away with Thomas, catching up with Kenway and the rest of the crew.

As soon as she was out of sight, he smiled. He knew perfectly well she could take care of herself. He just wanted to see how desperate she was to prove it, not just to him, but to herself.


	20. 20 Raise The Black Flag

As the tower exploded, the crew cheered, watching as shards of stone and brick peppered the water.

"We should get closer, Captain." Adé suggested. "Finish the job."

Kenway nodded and brought the Jackdaw into shore, docking her by the war zone.

He leapt off first, the rest of the crew in his wake as they tore up the burning ruins, rubble and flames decorating the scene. The crew engaged in battle, swinging their cutlasses at the opposing force as Kenway hunted down the officer.

Jemima swung her cutlass, growling under her breath with every cut she made. Fighting with the crew was one thing, but this was something new. This was life threatening. These soldiers weren't going to stop just because her father was Edward Thatch. They were going to kill her.

But she fought on with a vicious brutality and cut down all that stood in her way. She took a breath, pausing and looking around her. A figure sprinted across the battle.

Kenway.

"Jack, get down!" He roared, a panicked expression on his face.

She turned to see who he was running for, but the bullet struck her chest just as she spotted the officer. Kenway tackled him to the ground and brought his blade through his neck. Jemima wobbled for a moment, her hand curiously feeling the warm blood trickling down her front. Then, her eyes glazed over and she fell.

"Jack!" Kenway called and hearing the name, Thomas spun around.

"Kenway! What happened!" Thomas shouted pushing aside anyone who stood between them.

"He was shot. Quick, get him to one side while I finish off these bastards."

Thomas gathered her up in his arms and rushed to a secluded area, hid from the battle.

"Jack, Jack!" He called, setting her down gently. "Listen to me! Hold on!"

Thomas pulled off his shirt, tearing strips from it for makeshift bandages. His hands shook as he neared the blood, but as he undid her shirt, he stopped.

"Thomas...?" Jemima weakly murmured as she opened her eyes to see him sitting beside her.

"You're... A woman..." He muttered.

The fabric straps that held usually her chest were torn and fell loose, revealing the anatomy that was uncommon among men. Jemima raised her head to see the wound, the bloody straps uncovering what she had hid for so long. With strained effort, she lifted her arm to remove her hat. Placing it beside her, she untied the bandana around her head and let her hair down.

"Aye." She whispered. "I'm a woman."

"What's your name, if it's not Jack?"

"Jemima."

Thomas took a moment to recover then shook his head. He lifted her back up, gently as she groaned with the movement.

"Do you, er, do you mind..." He asked tentatively, moving to take off her shirt.

"If it means I don't bleed to death, then no, I don't mind." She said abruptly.

He carefully pulled her shirt off and unravelled the remaining chest straps. He supported her back by sitting behind her as he snatched up his makeshift bandages and wrapped them around her wound.

"Thank you." She whispered as he tied the last bandage.

"It's fine. I would have done it for anyone. And besides," he said with a faint smile, "your father would kill me if I let you die."

He pulled her up to her feet and helped to dress her. He tied her hair up and placed the hat back on her head.

"I won't tell anyone, don't worry." Thomas smiled as he helped her limp back out into the opening.

"Hey! You!" Thomas called at one of the Jackdaw's crew. "Help Jack! Take him back to the ship and wait there for me!"

"Aye!" The sailor nodded, took Jemima's weight and carried her away from the fight.

Before she vanished from sight, Jemima looked back over her shoulder and gave Thomas a weak smile. As she turned back, a weight smacked into him. He recognised her.

The mermaid by the waterfall.

It was her.

"Thomas!'

He snapped back to reality as he heard Adé call his name.

"Edward's heading for Torres! Come on!"

The clash of blades, the boom of gun fire and the crackle of flames couldn't drown out the dying breath of the fort's officer and as he fell, his soldiers fell to their knees in surrender. Kenway bolted to the war room, the crew in his wake as he pushed open the door, smiling wickedly to Torres who sat timidily behind his desk.

"Well, hello, your Excellency." Kenway greeted as the guards either side of the governor drew their swords. "I'd got word you might be here."

"I know your face, pirate." He replied. "But your name was borrowed the last time we spoke."

"Ah, yes, I recall... Mister Duncan Walpole, I miss that one. So... What's a Templar Grand Master doing so far from his Castillo?" He mused, running his fingers along the desk, knocking gold coins to the floor.

"I'd rather not say."

"And I'd rather not cut your lips off and feed 'em to you."

Torres sat back.

"Two years ago we offered a reward for the Sage's recapture." He told the pirate. "Today someone claims to have found him. This gold is his ransom."

"Who found him?" Kenway demanded.

Torres said nothing and Adé and Thomas stepped forward, one with his hand on his sword, the other raising his wrist blade. The guards made a move to draw their weapons as well but Torres signalled for them to stop, as did Kenway.

"A slaver by the name of Laurens Prins. He lives in Kingston."

Kenway smiled.

"We like this story, Torres. And we want to help you finish it." He sat down on the desk and snatched up a cup and teapot, pouring himself a drink. "But we're going to do it our way. Using you and your gold."

The pirate grinned, a wicked sparkle in his eyes as he sipped tea mockingly and placed it back down.

"Would love to stay, but places to go, people to see, you know?" He said and shepherded the crew out of the war room, closing the door behind him.

"We can't let the slaver sell the Sage to the Templars!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Relax, lad." Kenway patted his shoulder. "We won't."

Kenway left him, jogging away further into the maze of the fort. Suddenly, with a cheer, Thomas looked up to see the Spanish flag disappear and replaced by the pirate's own black flag. He smiled. Maybe it was going to take more than assassins to take down the Templars. Maybe, it was going to take pirates.


	21. 21 A Distrupted Trade

As she recovered, Jemima was kept in the captain's quarters of the Jackdaw, a makeshift bed set up in the corner with a curtain around it. Kenway was suspicious of the curtain at first but after Thomas insisted it was for medical purposes, he would throw his hands in the air and leave them be, unaware of the woman that lay behind it. And so Thomas stayed with her for the first few nights, sleeping on the chair behind the desk as Jemima slept nearby. He changed her dressing and her wounds soon healed.

"My first bullet wound." She smiled, sitting up, checking the bruised, raw hole that struck the right side of her chest, just below her shoulder.

"Let's hope it's your last." He said, rolling up the bloodied dressing.

"Aye. Thank you, Thomas. Really." She told him, genuinely grateful for what he had done for her.

"No problem. Whether you're Jack Thatch or Jemima Thatch, you're still my friend and I'll help you, no matter what."

Jemima stood, wobbly and Thomas gently pushed her back down.

"Not yet, you're still weak."

"Ah, come on! It's been three days!" She protested but lying back down all the same.

"When you can stand strong, then you'll be healed."

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, Doctor Young." She folded her arms.

As she grumbled, he grinned and left the bedside. Jemima watched him go, amused by the hard exterior but the gentle, compassionate character of the assassin, a good man loyal to his friends. She was glad to have met him.

Thomas stepped down the gangplank from the Jackdaw and jogged away from the docks, approaching the forms of the two pirates.

"Here's how it goes." Kenway murmured, his hood up, disguising his face as he spoke in hushed tones to Adé and Thomas. "Torres meets with Prins carrying a portion of the ransom, saying the rest is close behind." They stood nearly concealed behind a market stall by the docks of Kingston, watching the Templar figures nearby. "When we see the Sage, you bring in the rest of the gold, make the swap and get out. I'll be watching from close by."

"No, Kenway." Adé said, reaching for him as Kenway made to leave. "You run this scheme alone, at the risk of losing the faith of your crew. It makes me ill to think of you bartering with that wretched slaver."

"Adé's right." Thomas agreed. "Do this by yourself and we'll be the ones watching close by."

"Come on, mate." Kenway grew irritated. "Once we have the Sage, we'll all be rich!"

Adé's eyes wandered past Kenway and Thomas followed his gaze.

"Not if young Master Kidd gets to him first."

"Kidd?" Kenway turned, catching sight of the girl he knew as James Kidd, her back to him, stalking the same prey. Kenway stepped towards Mary, hurriedly. "Jaysus, that lad's here to kill him."

"Wouldn't be the worst idea." Thomas shrugged.

"We've been over this, _assassin_." He hissed, turning on him. "The Sage lives until I get what I want."

"Edward! Thomas!" Mary said, turning to see the pirate. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Leaving." Thomas growled, glaring at Kenway.

"No." Mary shook her head. "It'll be good to have another assassin around here. Someone with higher morals than others." She glanced back to Kenway. "What about you?"

"I'm tailing these men to the Sage. Can you two hold off 'til he appears?" He said, following Mary as she walked ahead of him, inconspicuously holding a conversation while hunting the Templars.

"We're not promising anything." Thomas said under his breath.

"But just this once you can have your way." Mary said, stopping, allowing Kenway to pass by her. "Do the right thing."

Kenway disappeared among the crowd, occasionally sighted on the rooftops and Thomas joined Mary in keeping watch. They crept around the area, giving Torres and Prins a wide birth, assisting Kenway in clearing the scene of any possible 'inconveniences'. Anyone who was hunting the assassins could have easily found them by the trail of bodies that they left behind.

Torres and Prins eventually left the maze of the town and wandered along a heavily guarded path. However, this was a minor issue for the assassins and Mary and Thomas ducked down in the bushes, the soldiers around them oblivious to their presence.

"Now's the time." Mary said, ready to stand as Kenway joined them.

"No." Kenway held her back. "Not until we see the Sage."

"Here's a quiet spot." Prins observed, seemingly unaware of the audience they had obtained. "I'll see the money."

Torres held out a small purse of gold.

"This is but a portion of the ransom." He insisted, noting Prins expression. "The rest is close at hand."

"It pains me to traffick a man of my own race for profit, Mister Torres." Prins sighed, shaking his head as he turned away.

"Yeah, right." Thomas muttered.

"Tell me again..." The slaver continued. "What has this Roberts fellow done to upset you?"

"Is this some sort of protestant piety I am not familiar with?" Torres questioned.

Prins weighed the purse in his hand for a moment, before tossing it back to the governor.

"Perhaps another day."

"What?"

"Next time," Prins said, walking away, "see that we are not followed!"

The three exchanged a look.

"Deal with this!"

The bewildered Torres hurried away, clutching the purse as the discovered three stepped out from the bushes.

"You've cocked up my kill, Kenway!" Mary spat as they engaged in battle, soldiers racing for them, weapons raised.

"For a better cause!" He insisted, slicing at the first victim to meet his sword.

As Kenway and Thomas battled on, Mary slipped from the fight, darting away.

"You lost your chance, man!" She yelled as Kenway kicked the last brute off his blade. "I'm going after Prins!"

"Kidd, no!" Kenway exclaimed, chasing after her, Thomas behind him. He wasn't in the same rush to catch her as Kenway was.

"Jim, stop!" He continued to order, cutting through the town and its people as he bolted after the fleeing assassin.

"Not this time, Kenway!" She called back.

"Come on, man! We can work this together!"

"You had your chance!"

"Stay your blade, Kidd! Wait!"

The debate continued, on the ground and along the rooftops, the pirate struggling to keep up with the young assassin. Thomas watched from below, running alongside the buildings, keeping in pace with the shadows that ran beside him.

Mary leapt to the ground, Kenway close behind.

"Thomas, grab him!" He ordered and instinct kicked in.

For years, Thomas had been used to being told what to do, given constant instruction. By leaving England, he had been granted freedom but that brief order from Kenway sent Thomas's mind spiralling back to the assassin training grounds in London.

Without thinking, Thomas tackled Mary to the floor.

"What are you doing, man?" She yelled, pushing him off her. "I thought you stood by me!"

"I'm sorry, I do! But-" He tried to apologise but Kenway approached, nodding to Thomas as he pulled up Mary from the floor, gripping her arm.

"Damn you, old Scratch!" She yelled, turning on him. "Keep your natty hands off me!"

"I can't let you kill those men, Kidd. Not until I've found the Sage."

"I've been stalking that pig for a week now, charting his moves! And here I find not one but two of my targets and you rob me of both!"

Kenway held up his hands in surrender.

"Patience, man. You'll have your kills."

"When I locate the Sage, you're helping me take Prins. Got that?" Mary shoved him away. "And you." She growled, facing Thomas. "You should have left when you had the chance. And here I was thinking two assassins were better than one." She stepped closer to him, glaring darkly. "Or maybe you're not an assassin at all..."

And with that said, she stormed away, leaving behind an agitated pirate and a doubting assassin.


	22. 22 Identities

"So he knows." Mary muttered as Jemima walked beside her, ambling among the market stall by the Kingston beach. It hadn't taken long for her to heal from her injuries, however it was longer then she liked, especially as Thomas, and then Mary, had taken it upon themselves to look after her to avoid the ship's doctor finding out her real identity. After the incident with Prins, Mary had learnt of Jemima's injuries, she had taken over from Thomas, concerned about him taking advantage of her in her weak state. But he never did.

"Aye. But just him." She replied.

"Are you going to go public?"

"Before long, but I haven't worked out how yet."

Mary smiled.

"Then you're going to need a change of clothes."

Still dressed as men, the two women browsed the market, looking around for suitable clothing. Jemima went for a plain option, white shirt and beige trousers and held it up before Mary.

"This?"

"Aye, maybe. But try this." Mary passed over a corset.

Jemima looked at it, then back to her.

"Really? But won't that look... You know... As if I want guys to come after me?"

"Well, do you?"

"No!"

"Then tell them that. If they go by what a woman wears instead of what a woman says then you can deal them a punch in the face."

Jemima grinned.

"You're right. Think it suits me?"

They laughed, rather an odd looking pair of pirates looking through women's clothing but they didn't care, flashing grins to confused passers-by.

"Thanks for this." Jemima said as Mary passed over a coin purse for the clothes.

"Not a problem." Mary smiled. "Now go off and try them on."

"You're staying?"

"I've got a job to do." She winked with a mischievous grin.

"Alright. Later then." Jemima waved and jogged off back to the Jackdaw. Most of the crew, if not, all of the crew would be ashore so she should be free to change without interruption.

As she boarded she smiled to herself. For once, she could actually be herself. And it was little freedoms like that that made her happy.

Thomas walked along the shore, alone with his thoughts. That mermaid by the waterfall, wasn't a mermaid at all. In fact, it was pirate who he had called Jack. But knowing that Jack wasn't Jack just played on his mind, he couldn't think straight. Her name was Jemima and for all this time she had been a woman under those clothes. Her body, flashing from that perfect form in the water, to the bloodied figure in the battle, no matter who she was, Jack, a mermaid, Jemima, she couldn't get off his mind.

He heard her voice and although he was sure it was his mind playing tricks on him, Thomas looked up none the less.

Mary was by a stall with Jemima, looking through clothes for her. Well at least he wasn't going completely insane.

As the two laughed, Thomas felt a pang of pain. He wanted to be the one laughing with Jemima, not Kidd. It was the same thing when Kidd told him he was going to take care of Jemima, that she didn't need him anymore.

Wait, was this jealousy?

He had felt it plenty back in England as he noticed other men glancing at Elizabeth, pained more so when she would glance back at them.

Maybe Kidd and Jemima had something between them, but why should that bother him? He didn't care, did he?

Then, Jemima waved goodbye and walked away from Mary and towards Thomas. Catching sight of him, she smiled.

"Hey, Thomas!"

"Hallo, Jemima. Sounds a bit weird saying that out loud." He grinned.

"Aye. But call me Jack around the crew, I haven't worked out how to break the news yet."

"Will do. Whatcha got there?" He pointed to the bundle of clothes in her arms.

"Kidd decided I should start to dress like a woman if I'm to be one."

"Kidd knows? And I wouldn't of thought he would suggest you to wear dresses."

"Aye but it's not dresses. It pretty much the same as I would wear anyway, but I can look like a woman while punching the shite out of someone." She laughed.

"That's the spirit." He chuckled. "Anyway, I'll catch you later, I need to meet up with Kidd."

"Ah, to discuss assassiny things I'm guessing?"

"Aye, so I'll see you later."

"Alright, later then."

She waved to Thomas and jogged back to the Jackdaw.

"Hey, Thomas!"

He turned to Mary who signalled him to follow her.

"Wait up, Kidd!" He called and chased after the assassin who raced from the market and into the town.

Before long, he'd lost her.

"Damn it." He growled and switched to Eagle Vision, scanning the surroundings.

But everywhere he looked, the gold form was no where to be seen.

Then, he heard the cry of an eagle, circling above a windmill nearby. And there she was, sitting atop the windmill, waving to him below. Thomas began to climb and seeing him approach, Mary called down.

"Thomas, I'm sorry about earlier. I got mad, I didn't mean what I said-"

"It's fine." He said, hauling himself up. "I should apologise myself. You should have gone after the Sage and killed him."

"Aye. It's Kenway's greed that's to blame here." She said as Thomas sat beside her, looking over all of Kingston.

"Mine too. We both want riches to take home."

"But not like this. Not with the Brotherhood on the line."

"I know. And you're right, by the way. I should have left earlier when I could. If I reach the Sage, I don't know who's side I'll take, yours or Kenway's."

"So you're going now?"

"Soon. I'll be off after Kenway arrives."

She nodded and scanned her surroundings. Thomas watched her as her eyes blinked into a different form.

"There." Mary pointed to the figure running towards the windmill and scaling the structure.

"Wouldn't you prefer meeting in a pub?" Kenway said, approaching them.

"I came to Kingston chasing a target." Mary replied as he sat down on the other side of her. "Getting pissed ain't a priority."

"We could work together on this, you know." Kenway stated. "It's Laurens Prins you're after and I want his prisoner."

"We're after the Sage as well, Edward." Thomas pointed out.

"Aye." Mary agreed. "Careful who you cross."

"May the best man win." Kenway shrugged.

"There's guards patrolling that property from end to end." Mary nodded, analysing the area. "Looks to me like they use bells to signal trouble. See there?" She pointed to an alarm post below. "We'll want to disable those before pushing too far. With so many men about, we can't rely on stealth alone. So... I'll do what I can to distract them and draw their attention, giving you a chance to cut 'em down."

As she pulled out a knife, Thomas raised an eyebrow. But, even as she cut her own thumb, he thought nothing of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her thumb to her lips and pull the bandana out of her hair.

"Ready?"

Kenway and Thomas turned to the young woman that sat beside them.

"Your name's not James, is it?" Kenway said.

"Bloody hell, not again." Thomas muttered under his breath.

"Not most days." She chuckled. "Come on. I'll see ya later, Thomas."

"You're not coming?" Kenway asked as the three stood.

"No. Right now, I seriously need a drink." He said, trying to match James Kidd to this woman.

"I'm not surprised. It's not everyday you see a man change into a woman." She said with a knowing look.

"It's been a strange few days, that much is certain." He breathed through his teeth.

Mary grinned and jumped off the windmill, soaring for the hay bale below.

"See you 'round." Kenway patted Thomas on the shoulder and followed Mary.

Left alone, Thomas let out a laugh. Oh, how blind he could be. He was in the company of two women and he didn't know it. And how foolish as well. He felt jealous that Jemima was with Kidd, who was a woman just like her.

Now, he really did need that drink.


	23. 23 History And A Change Of Apparel

Thomas trudged aboard the Jackdaw, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Jack was a woman, Kidd was a woman and next thing you know, Kenway was going to turn up to captain the Jackdaw in a dress.

Was he going insane?

He stepped down to the crews quarters, searching around for a bottle of anything. He checked bunks and crates and all that was left were empty bottles.

"Damn." He cursed, tossing the seventeenth bottle back under a bunk.

Thomas stood and stepped back up to the deck. He glanced over to the captain's quarters and bit his lip.

He really did want that drink.

Now Jemima was healed, he wasn't meant to be in the captain's quarters and he knew Kenway was away with Kidd but he knew he could come back at any time. Carefully, he opened the door and scanned the room.

A shadow fell across the floor and Thomas extended his wrist blade.

"Does Kenway know you're in here?" He called, taking a cautious step toward it.

"Does he know you're in here?" The voice replied and Thomas stopped.

"Jemima?"

He retracted the blade and walked over to the source of the shadow.

"Ah, Jaysus, mate! Can you knock?" She exclaimed, hastily pulling a shirt over her head.

He laughed.

"Ah, come on. I've seen already."

She pulled her head through the hole and glared at him.

"Don't give me that look, it was cos I saved your life, remember?"

"Aye, I remember, still got the scars." She said, touching the healed wound on her chest as she pulled her arms through the sleeves. "But the first time you saw was because you were creeping on me while I washed."

"I just followed a voice." He shrugged and turned away, rummaging around for the drink. "Did you know Kidd's a woman as well?"

Jemima nodded, adjusting her shirt.

"Aye, knew it the moment I met her. Her name's Mary Read."

"I'll remember that. Any other pirates I should know who are women in disguise?"

"Well, there's Kenway-"

"What?!"

"I'm joking!" She laughed. "It's just us two. Now can you give me a hand with this?"

Thomas left his search and turned to Jemima who held a corset up.

"I've never had to do this before." She bit her lip, turning it around, unsure how to put it on.

"As far as I can remember, it goes like this." Thomas stood behind her and helped her put her arms through the holes.

He then reached around to her front and clipped the clasps together before tightening the ribbon on the back.

"Oof." She gasped as he did so. "You sure you have something between your legs since you seem to know more about this than I do."

"Pretty sure." He grinned, stepping back. "Elizabeth had some like this."

Ah yes, his girl back home.

Jemima turned around, showing off her new outfit.

"So, whaddya think?"

"I think that I really need a drink." He stared, unable to take his eyes off her curved, feminine form.

"Kenway's got a bottle under that desk." She laughed, pointing.

Thomas found it and pulled out the cork with his teeth, taking a swig.

"What about the others? What will they think?" She asked, more to herself than to Thomas.

"They'll be surprised, that's for certain. Aren't you worried about any of the crew... taking advantage of you? That's why you and Kidd- Mary, dressed as men, wasn't it?"

"I'm not worried." Jemima said, drawing a sabre from Kenway's collection. "Any man who touches me without their permission can sleep with the fishes."

Thomas grinned.

"Ya know, I think I like Jemima Thatch much more than Jack Thatch." He said, slumping down on Kenway's chair, kicking his feet up on the desk.

"Is that because I'm something for you to leer at? Cos I can tell you now Thomas, do it again and I'll-"

He laughed.

"No, no, nothing like that. Jack Thatch was a dreamer, a good friend and a pirate. And Jemima Thatch is all that too, but she's a fighter, someone in control and not afraid to tell people who she really is."

"Well, I haven't actually told anyone. Mary knew straight away and my father found me as a farm girl."

"But you're planning to tell, aren't you? And you're not afraid to do that."

Jemima frowned, playing with her hair as she sat down on a crate.

"I don't know. As soon as I open my mouth, they're not going to take me seriously."

"Then that's what your pistol's for." Thomas nodded towards her jacket that lay on the floor, holding two pistols on the inner lining of it. "And you know how to make threats. You'll be fine." He assured her.

"Cheers, Thomas." She smiled. "Oh, by the way, I found some assassin outfits hung up there." She pointed to the wall opposite her. "I don't think Kenway will miss 'em."

Thomas stood and stepped over to the outfits. There were some simple sailor and hunting outfits, but two caught his eye in particular.

"I recognise these." He muttered, holding them out.

"Oh?"

"Back in the Brotherhood, we learnt of the history of the Master Assassins. This outfit here," he held up the first one, "belongs to Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad from the third crusade. And this one," he held up the second, "belongs to Ezio Auditore da Firenze, from Italy in the late 15th century."

"You know your history." Jemima nodded. "Think they're the real things?"

"Probably not. The Master Assassins were most likely buried in them. And in regard to the history, I had to know it. To know of all the famous Master Assassins was compulsory. And besides, I'm part of the lineage."

"You're what?" Jemima sat up.

"One of the things we did back in England was tracing out assassin heritage. Some people didn't have any in their lineage, but you can imagine the look on the British Master Assassin's face when he found out I was related to Altaïr and Ezio."

"How?!" Jemima was intrigued. She'd heard of these famous assassins before, but as the years had passed, the stories became legends. So for a blood relative to stand before her, this was as if those legends had suddenly come to life.

"I managed to trace it back to the Auditore family. I didn't come from Ezio's line, but I came from his brother's, Federico."

"That's amazing. So your ancestors would have called the Great Master Assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, their uncle!"

"Aye, they would."

She laughed.

"And all I can trace my family back to was a farmer's daughter and a vicious pirate!"

Thomas grinned and glanced back and forth from Altaïr's outfit, to Ezio's.

"What one do you think I should go for?" He asked, holding each up in front of him.

Jemima paused, narrowed her eyes and put a finger to her chin.

"Go for Ezio's, Altaïr's is a bit simple." She decided. "And an Italian look would suit you."

He nodded and set them down on the desk before pulling his shirt off. As he bent down to take his natty, sailor trousers off in exchange for the pure white ones, Thomas looked up to see Jemima, arms folded, watching him.

"Er, do you mind?" He asked, pausing, waiting for her to turn around.

"No, not really." She replied, unmoving.

"Jemima, lass, can you give me a little privacy please?"

"You didn't give me any so, nope." She smiled wickedly.

"Fine then." He sighed and pulled down his trousers.

Jemima took in the form before her. His body was decorated with muscles and scars, every limb baring a past of brutal training and battle to be what it is now. He wasn't perfect but that's what made him attractive. Each scar, cut and bruise told the tale of a fight won.

"Are you finished?" He raised an eyebrow as he watched her eyes trail down his body.

"Not quite." She said, gazing at the piece of anatomy she lacked.

"Oh come on, I didn't look that long at you."

"You fell out of a tree before you stopped leering." Jemima pointed out.

"Fair enough."

Jemima had a final look, then stepped back and waved for him to resume.

"You can put some clothes on now."

"Thank you, your majesty." Thomas bowed mockingly before pulling on the mock Ezio Auditore outfit.

"The pleasures all mine." She bowed back, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.


	24. 24 Welcome Aboard

"Any luck?" Thomas asked as Kenway and Mary approached him and Jemima, standing beside a bar.

Kenway shook his head, leaning on the bar, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Roberts got away."

"So is that his name?" Jemima asked. She was back to her male façade, long jacket and a hat hiding her new outfit and long hair.

"Aye. And Thomas, is that mine?" Kenway pointed to Thomas's outfit, the mock Ezio robes.

"I'm only borrowing it."

"Ah, don't worry, lad. Keep it." Kenway waved it off. "But anyways, I could really use a drink right now."

Kenway ordered as Mary stepped over to Jemima.

"I see you've beat me to the whole 'revealing your identity' thing." Jemima remarked, noting Mary's change of appearance.

"The occasion called for it. What about you, did the clothes fit?"

She nodded.

"They're underneath my jacket." She hissed.

"Why don't you show them all now?"

"Now?"

Mary shrugged.

"Well, when you're ready."

The chatter continued, mixing in with the music performed by a small group by the side. As they changed the song to one with a livelier beat, Thomas found a smile playing on a his face as he turned around to Jemima.

"Hey, lass. Let your hair down. Let's have a dance."

At his invitation, she grinned. She shrugged off her coat, revealing her shirt and corset and took off her hat, shaking her hair loose.

"M'lady." Thomas bowed and offered a hand.

"M'lord." Jemima bowed back and took it.

As they danced, skipped and stomped to the music, they laughed all the way through. Mary watched, clapping her hands to the beat. As Kenway turned, he nearly dropped his drink.

"Mary, make that three men I've lost today."

"Are you keeping score?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I might have to start." He said, taking a swig as he watched the pirate, formerly known as Jack Thatch, dance with Thomas around the tavern.

"Alright, lads!" Kenway's voice resonated around the ship as he called the crew to attention. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

The crew gathered around their captain, Thomas standing behind him. All eyes were on the captain's quarters, and as the doors opened, the crew exchanged a look of surprise, bewilderment and shock.

"It's a woman!" One exclaimed.

"Nice observation skills, mate." Jemima said, stepping forward. "Aye, I'm a woman."

"It's terrible luck to have a woman aboard a ship, Captain." Another told Kenway.

"Actually, she's been aboard for a while now."

"Stowaway!"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'd like to introduce you to Jemima Thatch, previously known as Jack Thatch." Kenway grinned, as Jemima bowed to the crew.

"Jack Thatch? You're having a laugh, Kenway!" Jeers began to be called among the crew.

"This is just a joke, Kenway's got us something to warm our beds!" One cackled. "You got any more in there?"

Jemima snatched her pistol from her coat and thundered towards that one man, holding up the pistol to his forehead.

"Say that again." She growled. "I dare you."

Thomas stepped forward.

"Are there any of you who doubt she is Thatch's daughter?"

None spoke.

"Any who doubt she could blast your head in at a moment's notice?"

All remained silent.

"I thought as much."

Jemima stepped back and put her pistol away, glaring darkly at that one sailor who shook in his boots.

"Lads, I expect you will treat her like anyone else aboard this ship." Kenway said. "And if you don't..."

Jemima spun, holding her pistol to the air and firing. With a thud, an unfortunate seagull landed in front of her. Slowly, with a deadly smile, she lowered it. The crew turned to each other before reaching an agreement.

"Well, welcome aboard the Jackdaw, Miss Thatch."


	25. 25 A Pardon

_Nassau, Bahamas, January 1718_

Jemima stepped down the plank, nearly strutting as she left the Jackdaw, practically the last to leave. With a wicked smile on her face, she glanced over the faces of the passing merchants, shocked to see a woman aboard a ship. By revealing herself, she had found a new strength, a new power, something that made her more brutal and ferocious than ever before.

"Er, lass?"

She turned at the voice to see her father, furrowed brow and a tilted head, walk towards her.

"Father!" She threw her arms around him, the surpised pirate standing stock still. "I've missed you."

"And I, lass. So I've seen you've decided to show who you really are. I hope nothing terrible has happened because of it?"

She shook her head.

"No, they're all to scared of me to do anything like that." She grinned and comforted by it, Thatch smiled. "And my," Jemima gently pulled at her father's beard. "I'm going to have to call you Blackbeard now!"

He laughed.

"Aye, lass, you do that. So did you find the Sage?" He raised an eyebrow, sceptical.

"Yes and no..."

"Oh?"

"We found him, but he got away."

"So you saw him?"

"No, but Kenway-"

"Ah, so it's Kenway that told you this, eh?"

Jemima frowned.

"Aye. And I trust him. If he said he nearly caught the Sage, I believe him. I know you don't think he exists, but you'll see it all one day."

Thatch shook his head, a gentle smile on his face.

"Jemima, lass. I'll believe it when I see it. But until then, the Sage, the Observatory, it's all fairy stories to me."

She bowed her head. He will see it. And he will believe it, without a doubt.

"So, what's happened while I've been gone?" Jemima asked, changing the subject as father and daughter walked arm in arm along the shore.

"The King's issued a pardon. For us pirates."

"Truly?"

"Aye. Should we wish to take it, we'll have no trouble from his dogs ashore and on the waters."

"It doesn't sounds right." She muttered as they approached the decrepit town. "It sounds like a trap."

"Aye, it does!"

Thatch and Jemima turned to see the forms of Vane and Hornigold approach, one of which who furiously shook his fist to the notion of a pardon.

"Vane, it's all true!" Thatch insisted.

"Bag of shite! Do you hear me? It's a bag of bloody shite! It's a ruse to keep us soft before they attack Nassau!" Vane insisted. "You'll see. Mark me."

"It's no ruse, Vane." Thatch growled. "I heard it straight from the mouth of a greasy Bermudan captain. There's a pardon on offer for any pirate that wants it."

"It could be a ruse, we all go for this pardon and the King's men shoot us on site." Jemima said.

"Ruse or no, I think it's plain the British may return to Nassau." Hornigold stated. "With arms no doubt." Vane threw his hands up in the air and walked away, passing by Kenway and Thomas, who hearing the commotion had come to investigate. Hornigold turned to Thatch. "We'll need a plan."

"Walk with us, Kenway." Thatch said. "There's trouble brewing..."

"Jemima, what's going on?" Thomas stopped and caught her by the arm.

"The King's offered a pardon." She repeated. "It's not much consequence to you, but it could mean freedom to us."

"You believe it?"

"I don't know. My father does, but it just sounds like a ruse."

"Aye. And if it is true?"

"Then we have the King's protection and a boring life ahead of us." She smiled.

As Jemima ran on to catch up with the other pirates, Thomas' smile fell. Either way, she was doomed. If it was a ruse, her and all the other pirates would be taken out and shot. And if not, she'd rather refuse it and die than continue her life simply.

"Just do the right thing..." He whispered as he followed.


	26. 26 A Reply

_Nassau, Bahamas, July 1718_

Perched on a steeple, Jemima overlooked the rotting town. People walked below, oblivious to the pirate that watched over everything. At the red swarm that plagued the beach, dotting around her, Jemima turned away. She sat back and looked up at the clear blue sky, the sight sickening her.

"Hey-"

Jemima whipped around, snatching her pistol from her coat and pointing it at Thomas' forehead.

"Oh, sorry." She sighed, drawing back.

"Are... Are you okay?" Thomas asked, clambering up to her side.

"I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

"My father left me behind months ago, so I could follow Kenway to find the Sage. But Kenway's made no move to continue his search! What am I doing here?" She exclaimed. "And not only that, look over there."

Thomas glanced to the beach where she pointed.

"The King's men have been arriving all day. They're here to tell us about the pardon."

"Are you going?"

"I'll have to. My father isn't here and I'll have to represent him."

"And would you take the pardon?"

"Me, no. But I want my father to. From the moment I stepped aboard a ship, he's been trying to protect me. Now it's my turn."

Jemima stood and threw herself off the tower, arms wide as she flew.

Thomas knew she had a rebellious heart but refusing the pardon would kill her.

"Stupid girl," he muttered and followed her.

"By the will of God and our majesty, George the first, we do hereby promise and declare that in case of any of the said pirates shall on, or before, the fifth of September, in the year of our Lord 1718, surrender him or themselves to any one of the principle secretaries of state in Great Britain or Ireland, or to any governor or deputy governor of any of our plantations beyond the seas... Every such pirate and pirates so surrendering him, or themselves, as aforesaid, shall have our gracious pardon, of and for such, his of their piracy, or piracies, by him or them committed before the fifth of January next ensuing. And we do hereby strictly charge and command all our admirals, captains and other officers at sea and all our governors and commanders of any forts, castles, or other places in our plantations, and all our officers, civil and military, to seize and take such of the pirates, who shall refuse or neglect to surrender themselves accordingly."

Jemima yawned at the announcement and received a deadly look from Woodes Rogers, despite his attempt to maintain a friendly composure. At her challenging expression, he looked away, put on a smile, as he led the pirates back out into the fort.

"I pray you take the prudent course, gentlemen... And woman." Rogers said as he stepped out of the warehouse, an awkward glance sent to Jemima. "Accept the King's pardon as soon as your hearts allow."

The group of pirates spilled out and stood ominously around Rogers, dark faces covering them.

"For until such time all of you will be confined to Nassau." He continued and Jemima raised an eyebrow.

As soon as she could, she was leaving this damned island, whether she was allowed to or not.

"I am sorry for this, but in lieu of a public trial, this pardon is your best bet."

"The governor puts it far to brightly, maggots." Roger's second in command spat. "Take this message home, accept the King's protection forthwith or we will raze this town to its foundation and stretch your bloody necks."

"Peace, Commodore Chamberlaine." Rogers said. "We are messengers, not executioners. Not yet."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" Vane mocked as Rogers and Chamberlaine stepped back inside the warehouse. "God save you!"

"Look on this as a stroke of fortune, lads." Hornigold said as they left the fort. "We should take the King's pardon and salvage what dignity we own."

"Dignity?!" Jemima threw her hands in the air. "Any dignity we have left will be crushed to pieces as soon as we accept that damned pardon!"

"Ah, come on, lass!" Hornigold sighed, exasperated. "This could keep you, your father and all the men here safe!"

"Oh, piss!" Vane exclaimed. "I'll be hanged before I surrender to that bobbin."

"Check your head, Vane!" Hornigold snapped, turning on him. "We had here a rare opportunity, a chance to take something base and shape it into a government, made and maintained by men of vision. But in two years, we pissed it away. I won't make that mistake again."

"It's truth he's telling." Said another pirate, dressed in a similar uniform to Hornigold. "And you whelps can't handle it. Adieu, you fo'c'sle-headed fuddlers! See you at the gallows!"

"You'll all be dead men!" Vane roared after them. "Bastards." He turned around to Rackham and Jemima who stood behind him. "I need a drink."

They left the fort, heading for the tavern when Thomas approached, seeing the pirates.

"Jemima!" He called, jogging over. "What happened, with the pardon and all?"

She shrugged.

"Rogers talked a load of shite and we left. Nothing more to it than that." She said.

"And you took the pardon?"

Vane scoffed.

"It's still on offer, but-"'Jemima signalled to the two men beside her. "So far, no takers."

"Hornigold thinks it's a grand idea." Vane muttered bitterly. "Thinks we should all be decent men and kiss the King's arse for the rest of our lives!"

"So, are we going to get that drink or what?" Rackham drawled.

"Aye." Vane breathed, recovering from his furious outburst.

"Jemima," Thomas reached for her arm. "I need to talk to you."

"You coming?" Rackham asked the two.

Jemima shook her head.

"You lads go on ahead. I'll meet ya later."

As Vane and Rackham made their way for the tavern, Jemima turned to Thomas as they walked towards the docks.

"So, what's the news?" She asked.

Thomas grinned, brandishing a letter with British stamps on it.

"Is that-?"

"Elizabeth, aye." Thomas nodded.

"What did she say? Come on, Thomas, tell me!" Jemima exclaimed, just as surprised as Thomas was when he received the letter.

Thomas drew the letter from the envelope and unfolded it, reading it aloud.

"My dear Thomas,

I too have thought of you often and how my heart leapt when I saw the letter was from you! Despite parting on difficult terms, I feel that our time apart has shown us both that we need to be together.

I am so happy that you have found adventure in the far seas but likewise, I wish you were back here with me. I know you must find the Sage and defeat the Templars, but all the while I'll be waiting for you.

Write soon,

With love,

Your Elizabeth."

"Oh, Thomas," Jemima smiled. "That's wonderful! All this time, you were fretting about her not loving you and here, written on paper, you can see she does!"

"I can't believe it!" He laughed. "When this is over, I can go home to London and start over, maybe even spend the rest of my life with her. And, Jemima..."

"Yes?"

"It was that letter that won her back. It's all thanks to you." He patted her shoulder.

"Huh, yeah..." She faked a smile, wishing that she had never said those words.

There was something, something deep in her heart that was greatly pained by the rekindled love between Thomas and Elizabeth. But, if he was happy, so was she. So, she put on a smile, hoping that it all worked out for him, all the while, breaking inside.


	27. 27 The Battle For Equality

_Great Inagua, October 1718_

As the drunken roars from the tavern above echoed around the island, Mary shook her head. The three sat near the shore, the sun nearly touching the waters as it approached late evening. By now, various men had come and gone. Thatch, or Blackbeard as he was now called, had left a while ago, entrusting his daughter to take care of herself, which she had proved time and time again, as long as no one mentioned the origin of the scar below her shoulder. Vane and Rackham had followed him and Mary had returned, preferring to spend her time with Jemima and Thomas rather than the corrupt drunkard. After catching up with recent news, she was amused at Jemima's escape from Nassau, even more so at her disregard to the consequences. But after the reunion, they soon slipped into silence, the only noise coming from the tavern above, voices resonating across the shore.

"That damned, Kenway..." She muttered.

"Oh, leave him be." Jemima told her. "He's not shooting people or beating them up. He's doing okay for now."

"But this is how Nassau went to pieces." She waved a hand to the scene nearby. "With piss heads like them in charge."

"Come on, lass." Thomas sat, leaning against a palm tree, his eyes closed. "Relax a bit."

"I can't." She growled, her wrist blade jumping back and forth.

Jemima paused, an idea forming.

"Hey, Thomas."

"Aye?" He replied, eyes still closed.

"Remember that time when you told me you would give one of your wrist blades to whatever woman could best you in a fight?"

Thomas slowly opened his eyes.

"Aye..."

"Let's fight. I want that wrist blade."

He turned his head to her as she stood above him, sword drawn.

"Come on!"

"Really?"

"Really really."

Sighing, Thomas got to his feet, but as he drew his sword, Jemima raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Wrist blades. Off. Just swords." She ordered. "Don't want you cheating."

"Fine."

He pulled off his wrist blades, placing them to the side before pulling his sleeves down and standing in a defensive stance, ready to fight.

"Go." Mary began the duel and watched as Jemima advanced, darting towards Thomas who deflected her strikes.

Thomas returned hits of his own to which she responded with equal measure, blocking each attack. Then, Thomas turned, and Jemima paused, thinking he was running away, nearly catching her by surprise when he ran at a tree, springing off it and diving for Jemima. She stumbled, but managed to get out of the way, swinging her sword at his feet which he easily jumped over. He made a cut at her head and she ducked, lunging. Thomas batted her blade away but snatched her collar and yanked her towards him.

The fight ended with his wrist blade inches from her throat. It was only then that Jemima realised there was only one wrist blade placed to the side.

"I think I win." He grinned down at her.

"Not quite." She smiled wickedly, her pistol resting under his chin. "And besides, I thought I said only swords."

He glanced down to her pistol and back to her.

"Touché." She shrugged.

"You're a pirate through and through." He laughed.

"Aye, and you're not to far off yourself." Jemima winked.

"So, a draw then." Thomas said and Mary nodded, confirming this.

"Aye. Let's try that again." She said and waved them on.

Jemima and Thomas stepped back from one another and resumed their battle. With a vicious smile, Jemima fought on, her expression distracting the stony faced Thomas. This is what scared him about her. She could kill a man with a smile on her face.

"Ha!" She exclaimed, batting his sword from his grip.

He grasped air for a moment, surprised he had been successfully disarmed, moments before Jemima kicked his feet from beneath him. He hit the ground hard, blinking up in shock as she stood above him, sword pointed to his chest.

"I think I'll be taking that wrist blade now then." She grinned.

As Mary confirmed Jemima's victory, Thomas reluctantly pulled off the wrist blade he wore and tossed it to her. Before trying it on, she helped him back up to his feet. Strapping the blade to her wrist, Jemima found it was a good fit.

"Not bad." She nodded, admiring it, watching the blade flick out and in. "And now, Thomas," she said, turning on him. "You've got no choice but to back Mary and I. Women are just as strong as men. We are powerful. We are equals."

"Of course." Thomas nodded. Before his very eyes, he had been proven wrong and how he viewed equality had changed. Maybe women weren't just equals, given half the chance, they could be the dominant ones.

Jemima stepped closer, extended her new wrist blade and pointed to his neck.

"And don't you forget it." She warned.

As the sun rose, Mary was the first to wake. She turned to see the assassin slumbering, his back against the tree, Jemima's head resting on him, his arm around her. As she stood, she smiled. She wasn't sure if it was intentional, if the pirate and the assassin had meant to fall asleep that way or not but it seemed natural, as if they were meant to be like that.

Leaving them be, she stepped along the beach to wake Kenway after his drunken exploits.

Sensing movement, Jemima stirred. She sat up, stretching and jolted as she recognised her pillow. She stood, careful not to wake him, tentatively lifting his arm and placing it back down, wondering how she got there in the first place.

"Mornin', lass." Thomas smiled, his eyes closed.

Shit.

"Mornin, Thomas." She replied.

"No offence meant, by you're heavier than I imagined." He grinned, a hand on his chest where Jemima had laid her head.

"Piss off." She frowned but it only made him laugh.

"I'm going to have a wash." She announced, throwing her arms up in the air. "If you try to follow me," the blade on her wrist darted out, "then you've got some explaining to do."

Thomas nodded and she took off, jogging through the jungle until she reached the rumbling waterfall. With a sigh, she stripped down, pulling off every item of clothing and weapon that she had on.

Smiling, she stood beneath the water, gasping as it crashed into her. She rubbed at the dirt on her skin, washing away the sweat, sand and blood that had gathered.

"Far have I travelled,

And much have I seen,

Dark distant mountains,

And valleys of green,

Past painted deserts,

And sunsets on fire,

As he carries me home to,

The Mull of Kintyre."

Jemima sang on, closing her eyes as the waters rushed over her, oblivious to the figure sitting in the trees above.

"Sweep through the heather,

Like deer in the glen,

Carry me back to the days I knew then,

Nights when we sang like a heavenly choir,

Oh the life and the times of,

The Mull of Kintyre."

At the second voice, Jemima spun, her eyes scanning the surrounding until she found Thomas in the trees.

"Jaysus, Thomas!" She turned away, covering herself. "I told you not to follow me!"

"I stopped listening to orders a while ago." He smirked. "That song you were singing, how do you know it?" He asked, curious. "It's not one I've heard often."

"It's a British song, isn't it?" She replied. "My mother sang it to me when I was young."

Thomas nodded, remembering his own mother singing that song to him when he was small. The song had been passed down from mother to child for generations, for further back than he cared to trace.

"Now," Thomas said, jumping down from the tree, approaching her, "is there room there for me?"

"Ah, get lost!" She told him, trying to hide the smile that began to creep onto her face.

Thomas grinned and pulled off his assassin robes, standing in his trousers and bare chest. He threw it to the side with her clothes and stepped into the waterfall. The water crashed down onto a jutting rock where the two stood, the water trickling down into a stream below. Jemima didn't protest as Thomas turned her around. He trailed a hand along her head, down her hair to her back. Their lips nearly touched, a mere inch apart as Jemima ran a finger down his chest to the waistband of the trousers. She gave a wicked grin as she pulled at it and Thomas bit his lip in anticipation.

Suddenly, Jemima brought her hand back up to his chest and before he could react, he was sent flying back into the stream.

"Nice try, Thomas." She winked and stepped away to collect her clothes as the assassin coughed and spluttered in the water below.

As she left, Thomas grinned, shaking his head. That woman would be the death of him. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid his eyes on, even more so than Elizabeth-

Oh God. Elizabeth.

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the irresistible form of the fiery female pirate, but for the past few days, he had completely forgotten about her. If Jemima hadn't pushed him away, he would have taken her, there and then, without a second thought of the woman he had promised to return to.

Silently, he thanked her. If he was unfaithful, there was no excuse, it was his own stupid fault. At least Jemima had some sense, more than him, to keep him on track. And despite his strong want for her, he knew it was wrong. Jemima was a good friend, and he was grateful for that.


	28. 28 A Fallen Legend

"A great disappointment you are, Thatch." Vane spat. "His mind's made up to stay, he says," turning to Kenway. "So sod 'im! And hang all you that follow the sorry bastard into obscurity!"

Thatch remained still until Vane had stormed away. With a raised eyebrow from Kenway, he put his hands in his pockets and turned around.

"The man's a prick." Jemima muttered.

"I know you've come to call me home." Thatch said to Kenway and his daughter. "And your faith in me is kind. But with Nassau done in, I feel I'm finished."

"I'm not of the same mind, mate." Kenway told him. "But I won't begrudge you the state of yours."

"You still looking for that Sage fellow?"

"Aye." Kenway said with a confirming nod from Jemima.

"Taking a prize a month back, I heard a man named Roberts was working a slave ship called the Princess. Might want to see about it."

"The Princess." Kenway mumbled, storing the name away for future reference. "Cheers, Thatch."

"So, is my old dad finally believing in fairy tales now then?" Jemima grinned.

"Not all fairy tales, lass." He pointed out. "Just the ones I can see before me."

"You will see it. Trust me." She promised.

"Now don't stand there like a barrel of wet fish." Thatch turned back to Kenway, sitting in silence. "We're celebrating my retirement!" He laughed. "Uncork the man's breakfast!" He yelled, calling for another bottle of rum.

As Kenway stood, both he and Jemima noticed a man stumble past the crowd, pushing people aside, casting anxious looks towards him. Almost as if he was afraid of him. Trying to get away.

"Do you know him?" Jemima asked.

"No, I don't think so." Kenway replied. "Save us a few bottles, eh?" He asked and left, stepping down, following the man.

Jemima nodded and sat down in his seat.

"So, this is the end to the infamous Blackbeard then, eh?"

Her father laughed.

"Aye, it seems so."

"You know, I heard stories of you while I was away. So many people were afraid of you, you were a nightmare, a thing to hunt them while they slept. And now, you're giving it up."

"You think I shouldn't?"

"I want you too, if I'm honest. Too much fame can be a bad thing." She smiled.

"Ah, worried about the navy coming after your old dad?"

"Aye. And besides, it's time someone else took your place." Jemima grinned, taking a swig from the bottle beside her.

"Of course, and to think it were going to be Jack Thatch that was going to continue my legacy."

"And not Jemima Thatch?"

"Jemima Thatch was going to be a well educated young lady back in England, with a husband and a family on the way. Respectable. Kind. Happy."

"Sorry to disappoint." She said, almost bitterly as she put the bottle back down.

"I'm not." He gave a warm smile and took her hand. "As long as you're happy here, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Still want me to get a husband though, don't you?" She laughed. She could read him like a book.

"Aye, you got me. You're twenty one, love. It's a father's dream to see his wonderful daughter married." His usual demonic, brutal appearance softened to that of a loving father. "Any contenders I should be aware of?"

Thomas' image flashed in her mind, making her blush.

"No, none."

"You sure? I've seen the way you look at that assassin, Thomas."

Jemima bit her lip.

"Well-"

Suddenly, a red flare burst into the sky. All eyes turned to it, laughter and song dying away.

"What the hell is that for?" Jemima stood.

As an answer to her question, cannon fire and heavy shot tore at the island, screams and flames filling every possible space.

"Jemima!" Thatch cried, his chair crashing back as he jumped to his feet. "Get to the ship, now!"

She nodded, fear tearing at her chest as the father and daughter became separated by a barrier of fire. But she did as she was told, leaping over flaming barrels, diving to avoid cannon shot, racing for her target.

"Thomas!" She called for the assassin, seeing his white form rush from the smoke.

He turned, seeing her and ran for her. She took a step back, unsure why he ran with such speed. At the last moment, he dived into her, pulling her to the ground as heavy shot barrelled past them, slicing into gunpowder barrels behind them. The explosion ripped at everything it could touch but Thomas covered Jemima with his body.

His uniform singed and battered, Thomas climbed to his feet. Jemima stood, unscathed.

"Lets go- uh!" Thomas winced, doubling over.

Jemima gasped, seeing the burnt flesh under his torn garments.

"Oh God, Thomas!" She cried. "Come on, we've got to get you out!"

With one arm around her, the other clutching his side, Thomas tried to jog, as fast as he could, Jemima carrying the majority of his weight.

They reached the Jackdaw and Jemima placed Thomas on the ground, kneeling beside him.

"Where the hell is Kenway?" She yelled, furious and afraid.

"Note the day, lads!" Thatch shouted, sword waving in the air as Kenway jumped aboard, taking the wheel. "Today we send the King's finest to their graves!"

As the ship began to move, Jemima rushed to the captain's quarters, searching for something to help the wounded man.

"Water, water- Ah ha!" She grabbed the flask and raced back up to deck, pulling off her bandana and dousing it with water.

"This is going to sting a little-" she said and pressed the wet cloth to his burns.

Thomas cried out, contorting as it made contact. As the Jackdaw battled on with the Man O' War, Jemima battled on with Thomas' wounds.

"I'll be fine, Jemima, really, I- Ah!" He exclaimed.

"Sorry! Just hold it there." She bit her lip, knowing that the healing process was probably hurting more than the explosion.

"Thank you." He mumbled wearily, holding the wet cloth to his side.

"No, thank you." She smiled. "You saved my life."

With a cry from the crew, their opponent had been beaten. Kenway pulled the Jackdaw around to board the Man O' War. The crew swung aboard and Thomas stood, brandishing his sword.

"I can fight." He told her, tying the cloth around him.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

The two followed the Jackdaw's crew, flying across from ship to ship, bursting into combat, whirling in fury as they took down as many soldiers as they could.

As Kenway climbed the rigging, Thatch battled below, roaring promises to cut each and every man down. As he did so, Jemima smiled. His last battle before retirement, this would be some way to finish. And still, all the soldiers cowered in fear at his blade. This man would become a glorious legend.

Thomas cried out, a soldier striking at his weak spot and he fell to his knees in pain. Jemima spun, terror filling her as she saw the soldier raise his sword.

He looked up, shots of excruciating pain shooting through him. As he saw the sword fall, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

But the end didn't come.

Thomas blinked, and looking up, saw the soldier. He coughed, blood trickling from his mouth as his eyes rolled back and collapsed.

Jemima stood behind him, holding out her blood soaked wrist blade.

"This is coming in handy." She grinned and retracted it, helping Thomas to his feet.

"So I save your life, you save mine." He laughed.

But Thomas' laugh faded away as he looked past Jemima to see her father, his brutal form, fight with all his might until a pistol shot ripped through his shoulder, sending him to his knees. Following his gaze, Jemima turned.

"Father!" She screamed, racing for him.

But the flurry of soldiers were too strong and it was all she could do to protect herself as she fought on, in a desperate attempt to reach her father.

"No!" Jemima screamed again as a soldier sliced at his face. "Kenway! Help him!"

"I'm trying, lass!" He shouted back, holding up his wrist blades to protect himself from a soldier's attack.

Kenway stabbed the soldier in the stomach and threw Thatch a pistol.

"In a world without gold, we might have been heroes!" Thatch exclaimed, catching the pistol and shooting the soldier that stood over him.

He clambered to his feet and Jemima breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short lived as a sword cut at his back and the fearsome pirate stopped short.

"Thatch!" Kenway roared.

As the notorious Blackbeard fell to his knees, another soldier whipped his sword at his neck and his head fell away from his shoulders.

"Father!" Jemima's scream ripped across the ship.

Thomas saw a brute knock the stunned form of Kenway into the water. As he looked around, he knew there was no chance of winning this fight.

"Jemima! We have to go!" He yelled trying to grab her as she made a run for her father's body.

"No!" Tears ran down her face, her sword striking at anyone and anything that stood in her way.

He knew she wasn't leaving by choice so Thomas grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her away. He snatched a rope from the side of the ship and gripped Jemima's waist with the other and flung himself over board.

Thomas pulled the weeping form through the water, following Kenway as he swam for the Jackdaw. As Jemima found the strength to swim for herself, they caught up with him and pulled themselves aboard as Kenway reached the wheel and set it into motion.

"Oh God..." Jemima cried, sinking to her knees, head in hands.

Thomas bent down beside her and held her as she wept.

"What of Thatch, sir?" Adé asked Kenway, noting Jemima's disposition as they escaped conflict. "Did he fall?"

Kenway remained silent.

"Captain?"

"He drinks damnation." Kenway said.

Adé turned to Thomas who sat beside him, still holding Jemima. He looked up to Adé and in a mutual understanding, they both bowed their heads. Blackbeard had indeed fought his last fight, but before death instead of retirement. A legend had fallen. But the story would go on.


	29. 29 Betrayal

"The captain claims the Princess sails out of Kingston every few months." Kenway told them as Vane, Adé, Jemima and Thomas stood around the captured ship, the crew keeping guard of the surrendered soldiers.

"Alright." Vane nodded. "We'll set a course."

"You made a hash of my soaps and rigging, Jackanapes!" The captain protested as they approached him. "You owe me a share."

Vane sighed and whipped out his pistol, sending a shot into his stomach. The captain cried out out and collapsed, his crew wide eyed and shaking.

"Dammit, Vane!" Kenway cursed.

"Oh, Charles!" Rackham drawled. "What a surly devil you are!"

"Don't fuck with me, Jack." Vane growled.

"Oh, but it's my mandate to fuck with you, Charles. Lads!" He raised his hands and the crew drew their pistols, pointed at Vane, Kenway, Jemima and Thomas. Another sailor shoved Adé to the ground with a cry.

"See..." Rackham sauntered over. "The boys and I had a bit of a council while you were wasting time with this lot, and well, they figured that I'll be a fitter captain than you reckless dogs."

"I'll cut you another cunt, traitor!" Vane roared, wrestling from the sailor that held him back.

"Ooh!" Rackham laughed and turned to Adé. "This one I figure I may sell for a tenner in Kingston." He lifted his head to Jemima and leered. "You could fetch a pretty price at a brothel in town. But with you three grog-blossoms, I can't take any chances."

"You'll regret this day, Rackham." Thomas snarled, glaring at the traitor.

"I regret most of them already." He smiled. "Tie 'em up. Cast 'em off." He called to his crew.

"You bastard!" Jemima yelled, trying to shake off the sailor that began to tie her wrists up.

"Ah, dear lass. I wish I didn't have to kick you out." He trailed a finger along her chin. "I like to have a little fire to warm me in the cold nights." Rackham grinned.

"Fuck off, Rackham." Thomas spat.

"Oh my," he giggled. "Do we have a gentlemen aboard? Here to protect the lady's honour?"

"I'll cut your prick off myself." Jemima bared her teeth. "It's not him you need to worry about."

Rackham tipped his head back and laughed, quite enjoying himself.

"Oh, my dear. I'm not worried about any of you." He said and jumped back aboard the Jackdaw, taking the crew, Adé and Jemima with him and leaving the three on the useless shell of the former ship.

"I'll gut you, Jack Rackham!" Vane continued his onslaught of threats and abuse, the Jackdaw slipping away out of sight. "I'll open you up, I'll tear out your organs and string a bloody lute with 'em!"

"Stop your God damned howling, Vane!" Kenway snapped. "It's no bloody use!"

"Well, well, the fearsome Edward Kenway speaks!" He mocked. "Pray tell us, captain, how to quit this predicament! And tell us what genius you have for sailing a boat with no sails and no rudder!"

"Shut your gob!" Thomas roared. "Jemima's being sold as a prostitute, Adé's being sold as a slave and we're stranded on a sinking tub! Has anyone got any bright ideas right now?!"

"Yeah, Kenway, any bright ideas?" Vane continued his onslaught.

"Fuck off, Vane!" Kenway exclaimed, fists clenched.

They continued arguing, the hot sun beating down on them as rage poured from their mouths, spurting abuse and curses. The ship drifted and when land finally came into sight, the three stopped their fighting and flung themselves into the water, swimming for it.

They soon reached Isla Providencia, a small island where they were forced to live now that the decrepit ship offered no possible habitation.

For the first few hours, the three tried to work together to find food and water. They had no success apart from Kenway finding and skinning a howler monkey but the sun riddled their brains and to avoid heat stroke, they had to give up. Lying in the shade, they looked up hopelessly at the bright sky. Being marooned was not the most thrilling experience.

As Thomas looked out into the horizon from his makeshift hammock, he could only imagine the situation Jemima was in at that moment. She was strong and a whore house wouldn't break her, but it would give a damn good try. His brain conjured up terrible images, his fear getting the better of him as he imagined all manners of men tearing at her clothes, pinning her down, holding her against the wall as they-

"Thomas!"

"What?" He called down to Kenway who stormed along the beach towards him.

"You bloody well know what!" He snapped, grabbing Thomas' shoulder and pulling him out of his hammock.

"What the hell? I don't know what you're on about!" He insisted, shaking the sand from his clothes as he stood.

"My kill! The howler monkey meat! Where is it?" Kenway raised his wrist blade ominously.

Thomas extended his own and pushed Kenway's away.

"Man, I don't have your damned meat!" He growled.

"Don't lie to me!" Kenway pushed against Thomas' blade and Thomas pushed back, growling.

"I'm not!"

"You fucking are!" Kenway snarled. "Vane told me-"

"Vane?"

The two turned to see the pirate cackle behind them, a cloth holding raw meat in hand.

"Oh, you should have seen your face!" He laughed. "'I don't know what you're on about!' Ha! Priceless!"

"Damn you, Vane!" Kenway spun, storming towards him.

Vane continued to cackle as Kenway snatched his kill from his hands. Kenway gave him a dark look before trudging back across the beach, still fuming. Thomas glanced at Vane and it could have been the late evening sunlight, but he could have sworn there was a look of madness in that man's eyes.

The ship pulled up in the Havana docks and Rackham stepped down the gangplank, tugging on a rope that connected to Jemima's wrists. She had tried resisting but every time she did, he yanked on the rope, causing her to stumble. She had been gagged as well, Rackham found aggressive mumbling much better than roaring curses and threats. After sending Adé off to Kingston, it was time to sell the pirate girl and so he lead her through the town, heading for the brothel.

"Never thought you'd take such a career change, eh?" Rackham grinned and Jemima narrowed her eyes. "Nothing to say?"

If looks could kill, Rackham would be dead before he could blink.

They soon arrived at the brothel, the Madame stood waiting outside for them. With hands on her hips, she gave the captive a distasteful look, examining her new employee.

"Not bad." She shrugged. "Could be worse, I suppose."

"She's a fiery one." Rackham nodded and the Madame could see that just by the look of her eyes.

"Experienced?" She asked and Jemima growled behind her gag.

Rackham shook his head.

"Untouched."

"Hm. That's surprising. Most of the pirate women out there have slept with every single crew member aboard whatever ship she's on. Sometimes at the same time." She winked and Jemima wrestled in her bonds, desperate to punch that insufferable woman right in the nose.

"Does that change the price?"

The Madame sighed and nodded.

"If that's true, she'd be worth a lot. I tell you, the amount of men who prefer 'purity' to experience is astounding. And with her fiery attitude, she'd be quite the catch. Now, let's have a look at your face."

"Ah, I wouldn't-" Rackham began to protest as the Madame pulled down Jemima's gag.

"You bloody fucking whore!" Jemima roared as soon as she could speak. "Don't you dare think I'll go along with this! And you shitting traitor, Rackham! When I get my hands on you-!"

Rackham pulled up the gag again, cutting her off.

"Told you."

"Oh, dear." The Madame tutted. "What a mouth. Pretty though. But careful now, for I'll have to cut out your tongue." She gave a sickly smile and lifted a dart, jabbing it into Jemima's neck.

"I'll be seeing you later then, shall I?" She heard Rackham cackle before she slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness, fear and dread following her as she thought of what was to come.


	30. 30 A Friendly Face In An Unlikely Place

As soon as she could move, Jemima made a run for it. Her head still woozy, she sat up, trying to stand, but stumbling as her eyes adjusted, trying to focus on her surroundings and a possible escape.

"Woah! Take it easy, sit down!" Said a voice and Jemima felt herself being pushed down into the bed again.

Protesting, she tried to shove the figure away but her arms were weak and waved uselessly in front of her.

"Hush, now."

Jemima calmed, not recognising the voice as either Rackham or the Madame. But it wasn't anyone else she knew either.

Her eyes adjusted and blinked, focusing on the slowly visible girl in front of her.

"Who... Who are you?" She breathed, her voice gravelly.

"My name is Alice Greeves." The girl said, smiling.

She had a kind, round face with bobbed brown hair and chestnut eyes that portrayed so much innocence. But Jemima could only imagine how much corruption they had seen.

"I'm Jemima Thatch."

"A pleasure. Although, that's probably not quite the word to describe this situation." She bit her lip.

"What's happening, where am I?" Jemima knew the answer but just hoped she was wrong.

"La Sirena Encantadora (the enchanting siren)." Alice told her, standing. "The most popular brothel in Havana in case you were wondering."

"Fuck." Jemima winced, head in hands.

"I'm guessing you're one of the bought whores?"

"Not willingly."

"They never are." She sighed.

"You sound like this happens a lot."

She nodded mournfully.

"It's my job to take care of the new girls. They wake up just like you on that bed, ready to be dressed for your new life."

"Why couldn't you just do it when I was asleep?" Jemima asked, dreading the though of leaving her pirate apparel for the dress of a whore.

"It's tradition for the girls to choose their ribbons."

Jemima raised her head, turning to see Alice step towards her with a box. She opened it, revealing thin satin ribbons of various colours. It was now that Jemima noticed Alice's lilac ribbon, tied around her neck. For something so dainty and pretty, that ribbon looked damned sinister.

Tentatively, Jemima chose her ribbon. It was red, a deep red of the blood of her enemies that dripped from her blade, the colour of the sky in morning as the seas reckoned for a storm, the colour that burst onto her cheeks every time she remembered Thomas.

Damn.

"What was that?" Alice asked, just as she finished tying the ribbon to her neck.

"Oh, nothing. I... I just thought of someone."

"And who is this someone?"

"Someone who I hope is doing better than me." She sighed.

"What happened?" Alice sat down beside her.

"We were betrayed by Rackham. I was sold here, the quatermaster was sold into slavery in Kingston, and the other three were marooned. God, I hope they're alright."

"And one of these unlucky souls, you care for them, is that true?"

"I do, aye." Jemima couldn't deny it. She wouldn't admit anymore than that though. She cared for him, and maybe he cared about her, but that was all it could be. He had a girl back home that she could never replace.

"Then you've got to get back to him."

"What?" Jemima sat up, head tilted as Alice stood and began to pace, plotting.

"For all the girls that came here, none have been like you. You're not blubbering on your knees or screaming to let you go, you've actually got some wits about you."

"Well, I try."

"And," Alice lowered her voice, "your knife, on your wrist. No one knew it was there. This could get us out of here."

"Us?"

Alice nodded.

"I came here willingly, trying to make a living for myself and my father. He owns a sugar plantation, but pays his men and avoids the slave trade at all costs. He's a good man, but he struggles to pay for our house. So I left to work here. He didn't have to pay for me any more and he gained money from my work. I haven't seen him in five years."

As Alice bowed her head, Jemima could recognise her age. She only looked eighteen, only a few years younger than Jemima.

"Then you've got to get back to him." Jemima stood.

Alice smiled.

"We'll have to dress you as one of us." She said, pulling out a red dress to match her ribbon from the wardrobe, set in the corner of the small dressing room. "But, something with sleeves."

Jemima stripped down from her pirate outfit, reluctantly, and pulled on the red dress. As Alice laced up the corset and the sleeves, Jemima stood before the mirror and wrinkled her nose. Skirts did not suit her. The neckline of the dress cut very low, showing off her excessive cleavage, threatening to burst out if Alice tugged any tighter.

"Those sleeves should hide your blade." She said, stepping back.

"You want me to kill someone?" Jemima raised an eyebrow.

"If the occasion calls for it." She gave a wicked grin and Jemima found a smile for herself.


	31. 31 The First Customer

UPDATE- so like many authors on this site, I've written ahead and as of today I've pretty much finished! So I'll get that out to you asap, about 56 chapters in all (think you can handle that?) But after this I probably won't be writing for a while, at least not until after Christmas where hopefully I'll be getting AC Rogue and I can develop a story for that as well as an AC3 story (shout out to mpowers045 for helping me with the idea!). And, as always, a huge thank you to all of you who simply read my stories and leave lovely messages telling me to continue, it really does make my day :) a lot of you have also been saying how much you ship Jemima and Thomas (if you'll pardon the pun) and so with the following chapters you'll find out whether Thomas decides to return to England and Elizabeth or stay in the Bahamas with Jemima. Thanks again!

* * *

><p>The days wore on and the two marooned pirates and the assassin continued to survive. Without civilisation, the three adapted but soon, some took a more wild appearance. Still proudly dressed in his assassin robes, Thomas refused to copy Edward and Vane, dressing down to a filthy shirt and cut off trousers, clothes for whale hunting. But soon, the heat was more than he could bear and with a gasp of relief, he pulled off his outfit and stood there, sweating in his rolled up trousers and bare chest. Tossing it onto a tree branch nearby, he sat down heavily in the sand, lying back and staring up at the sky.<p>

Closing his eyes, sleep nearly found him until a voice roared across the beach, jolting him in his rest.

"Dammit, Vane!"

Thomas blinked and sat up to see the two pirates in midst of a quarrel by the shore.

"The sun has fried your head, man!" Kenway shouted, pushing Vane away from him

"This is my island!" Vane roared back. "Leave now with your life, or fight me for it!"

The madman wielded a stick, batting it at Kenway's side.

"Hey! Lads!" Thomas jumped up and hurried over to them, holding up his hands.

"And you!" Vane spun, the stick inches from his face. "You stuck up, assassin! You're just a boy playing a man! Sod off with the traitors who want my island for themselves!"

"I don't want your stupid island and call me 'stuck up' or 'a boy' again," Thomas flicked up his wrist blade, "and I'll end you."

"That's a threat!" Vane growled.

"You bet it is." He snarled.

Vane whipped the stick at him and he snatched it from him, breaking it over his knee and throwing it to the sand.

"Fuck. Off." He spat.

"Hey, now, Thomas-"

"Don't you fucking start, Kenway." He turned on him. "It was your idea in the first place that we should split up and hunt for food instead as a group. This is your fault that Vane's like this."

"My fault?" He took a step towards him. "So it's my fault the heat has riddled his mind, eh? It's my fault that he's gone insane and thinks he rules an island?! I didn't hear you suggesting any other ideas!"

"Hey! Back off, Kenway!" Thomas shoved Kenway back. "I don't think you realise we're not the only ones in a shitty situation! Have you forgotten Adé's been sold as a slave? That Jemima's off forcefully selling herself as we speak?!"

"Ah, of course, a day doesn't go past that you don't think of her, eh, lad?" Kenway cackled. "Its like you think you're Jemima's knight in shining armour!"

"Fuck off." Thomas said.

Kenway continued to laugh.

"Well, we know what women are like, she's probably enjoying herself! Can't go long without a good scream, can she?" He grinned. "And I bet you can back me up on that, eh, Thomas?"

"You piece of shit." Thomas snarled and shoved him. "This is why your bloody wife left you!"

Kenway's smile dropped.

"Lad, don't go there-"

"No, you need to hear this." He grabbed Kenway by the front of his shirt. "If you can't treat someone with a douse of respect, you'll lose them. And you don't have that many friends that you can afford to lose them."

"So that's what happened to your girl, eh?" Kenway found a menacing smile. "Don't say I haven't got a douse of respect when you've done the exact same thing."

Thomas pulled back his fist and sent it crashing into Kenway's face. He fell to the floor and Thomas bent down, slamming his fist into his face twice more until a voice bellowed into his ears.

"Stop!"

"For the last time, Vane. Fuck off." Thomas said, sitting back, rubbing his fist.

"I didn't say anything." Vane frowned and Thomas furrowed his brow.

"What? You told me to stop?"

"You're going mad, mate." Vane said and shaking his muddled head, he left, stumbling back across the beach.

Maybe it was Thomas that was going mad. It wasn't Vane, it definitely wasn't Kenway and it was just them on the island. It was like a figment of his imagination had yelled at him to stop, and it sounded an awful lot like Jemima...

Wiping the blood from his face, Kenway stood, spitting blood.

"Thomas..." He started.

"I'm not sorry, Kenway." Thomas said, not looking up. "It was harsh, but I've been wanting to do that for a long time. All I needed was an excuse."

"For the record, I _am_ sorry." Kenway told him. "I wish Jemima isn't in that situation either. I know she means a lot to you. I shouldn't have let my head get the better of me, it's this damned heat, I swear!"

"It's fine. And if I'm honest, I'm more concerned with Vane than you at the moment."

"Aye." Kenway nodded, looking out at the way Vane had stumbled along. "He'll be trouble before long."

"Well, with any luck, at least one of us will have our wits by that time."

"And only time will tell who that'll be."

As the sun set, the men began to call at La Sirena Encantadora. The cat calls echoed around the rotten whore house as women posed provocatively against the wall, out of the windows, in hopes that they would pick them and maybe pay a little extra.

Jemima kept her back against the wall, hiding in the shadows. The plan was to wait until there were a lot of men coming in and out so the two could slip away undetected. Not many men were interested in the quiet ones, lucky for them.

"You, come here!" The Madame barked at Jemima and she jolted.

With a fearful look to Alice who sat nearby, she obeyed, walking over to the Madame. Already, the plan was falling apart.

"Look here, girl." She beckoned.

"Yes?"

"This gentleman here wishes to make an enquiry." She gestured to a man beside her, almost finely dressed, as if trying to look like someone richer than he really was.

"They say you're untouched." He leered, stepping towards her.

"I am." Jemima growled trying to hold back her fury.

The man gave a sickly smile and walked around her, analysing his prey. She flinched as he ran a hand through her dark hair, her wrist blade twitching under her sleeve.

"Even if that's an untruth," he remarked, doing a full circle and stopping in front of her, "she's a fine specimen. I'll take her."

"You can't! Don't I get a say?!" Jemima protested.

"No you don't." The Madame snapped. "It's his choice and not yours."

"I don't care! I refuse!"

"Oh, such anger." He laughed. "Where did you find this one?"

"She's a pirate, the daughter of Blackbeard."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"A pirate girl, hm?" He lifted her chin. "I bet you have quite the experience in handling a sword. And the daughter of Edward Thatch, no less. My commiserations, I heard of your father's passing. Although I would say the world has improved somewhat without his presence."

"You piece of-"

The man snatched her face, pinching her cheeks with one hand, silencing her.

"What a fiery tongue." He grinned. "I may have a use for that."

He grabbed her wrist, fortunately the one without a blade strapped to it, paid the Madame and led her up the stairs, despite her protests. The Madame followed and passed a small hip flask to her.

"Drink."

Jemima knew it had been drugged. She didn't need to see the wicked smile of that evil woman to know that. Tentatively, she reached for it. She couldn't refuse. Maybe it would help her forget...

Suddenly, a drunkard stumbled into the Madame, the hip flask tumbling to the floor, its contents pouring out onto the dirty carpeted floor.

Before being pulled into a room, Jemima turned to see the Madame arguing with the drunkard who claimed he had been pushed, a familiar figure close by. Alice gave a mournful nod and disappeared.


	32. 32 Escaping The House Of Sin

The man undressed, often casting a hungry look in Jemima's direction. She rubbed her arm, standing still, not sure what to do. She was scared. Never before had she been so scared than at this moment. Closing her eyes, she wished that anyone of her friends, Mary, Kenway, Thomas, would burst through the door to rescue her.

Opening her eyes, she glanced to the key on the dresser beside the door. She wouldn't reach it without him knowing. Not until he was asleep. But by then, it'd be too late.

The room was ugly, she noticed. It had the bare necessities, a bed, a dresser, a mirror and... And that was it. The room was there for one purpose, and to be aesthetically pleasing was not it.

The man, now completely undressed, stepped towards her and stroked her chin, lifting it to force her to look at him. Their bodies were close but there was nothing but cold between them. Not like with Thomas, where the heat was stronger than a fire and all she wanted to do was lie in his arms-

"Lie down." He ordered and Jemima obeyed, sitting down on the foot of the bed, crawling back as he crawled forward.

"Please, no..." She begged, her voice timid as he loomed over her.

"Silence, whore." He spat and as he buried his face in her chest, his hand stroked her leg, pulling up her skirt.

She bit her lip, trying not to weep. As he reached her inner thigh, she pushed him away, only to be shoved back down.

"Don't." Jemima threatened, finding her strength beneath her fear.

"Or what?" He grinned, unlacing her corset.

With a snarl, Jemima raised her arm and the blade sliced through her sleeve. Before he could cry out, she had embedded it in his neck, watching as he choked in his own blood, spilling down onto her dress, nearly matching the colour.

"I warned you." She told him and pulled the blade out, pushing his naked, dead corpse to the floor.

Jemima stood and rushed to the door, fumbling with the key as she unlocked the door, closing it and locking it again before anyone could notice the body inside.

"Jemima!"

She spun, relieved when she saw Alice approach. Her eyes flickered to her cut, blood stained sleeve, loose corset and blood splattered skirt.

"It's done?"

"Aye."

"Then let's go."

Alice lead Jemima down the stairs, ducking into the small dressing room where the first met. She opened a chest beside the wardrobe and pulled out a familiar shirt, trousers, corset, boots and hat.

"You kept them!" Jemima rushed to it, pulling off her dress and stepping back into her pirate apparel. Oh, how she'd missed it.

"Of course. A dress isn't very practical for a pirate." She smiled.

"Thank you." Jemima said, placing the hat over her head.

"No, thank you." Alice opened the door.

"Hey, I haven't got us out yet."

The two snuck out from the dressing room and into a long corridor. At the end was the escape and so they picked up the pace, breaking into a jog, nearly bumping into the Madame.

"She's always here!" Alice hissed, ducking behind one of the pillars that decorated the corridors. "Whenever I try to run, she's there!"

Jemima put a finger to her lips and crept up to another pillar. With her back to it, she tilted her head slightly, watching the Madame. She whistled and the wicked woman turned, eyes darting about for the source of the noise. As the Madame stepped towards the pillar to investigate, Jemima smiled.

Alice watched on, nearly crying out as the pirate snatched the Madame, her elbow around her neck, cutting off her air as she held her to the floor. She kicked and struggled, but eventually tired, lying still.

"Is she dead?" Alice asked, her hands over her mouth.

"No, just asleep."

"If I'm honest, I wouldn't mind if she were dead."

"Her time will come, but it won't be by our hands. At least not today." Jemima said and the two ran on for the door.

They burst out into the night and ran. Alice lead the way, racing through the nearly deserted streets of Havana. She grew breathless, but didn't give up. Nearly on the other side of the town, she reached her father's home. She knocked furiously, panting as the pirate girl stood behind her, wrist blade drawn, watching the night in case they were followed.

With a candle in his hand, the aged man opened the door, weary, grumbling about the time. As he set his eyes on Alice, they widened. He dropped the candle, the light extinguishing and he pulled his daughter into an embrace.

"Oh, Alice! My Alice, my daughter!" He cried as the girl began to sob with joy.

Jemima stood back in the shadows, head bowed, longing for her own father.

"Father, this is Jemima. She rescued me." Alice said, stepping away, gesturing to the pirate.

"We rescued each other, really." Jemima insisted.

"For five years I've been without my daughter." He wiped his tear stained eyes. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, name it."

"There is something." Alice told him. "She has friends, one sold into slavery, three more marooned on a desert island. Could we help them?"

"There's not much I can do about you friend in slavery. I don't deal with that sort of thing. But I can help your marooned friends, as long as they haven't already perished."

He waved for the two young women to follow him inside the house and he drew a map from a cupboard, laying it out over the table.

"Where is this island?" He asked, lighting candles around them to illuminate the map.

"I don't know. We were separated here, though." Jemima pointed to a space on the map.

"Them most likely, they have washed up on Isla Providencia." He said, pointing to a small island beside her finger.

"That's our first port of call, then." Alice said, hands on hips.

"Yes." The man nodded. "Let me pack, and we'll leave at first light."

"We're going too?" Alice raised an eyebrow.

"We can't stay here." He pointed out. "They'll come looking for you and I don't know what you had to do to escape, but I can't imagine it was good."

Alice and Jemima exchanged a glance.

"Then it's agreed?" He asked. "We'll all travel together?"

"Aye." Jemima nodded. "Together."


	33. 33 The Madman

In the midday sun, Thomas took shelter, frowning as he drained the last of his water supply. He cursed, shaking out a single droplet into his mouth, then threw the canteen to the jungle floor. Lying back in the tree, he sighed, wondering what would come first; death by starvation, dehydration or boredom.

He remembered that voice, shouting 'stop!'. It was this heat, plaguing his mind with the sound of her voice, as if Jemima was there behind him. The heat had already riddled the mind of Vane, the patience of Kenway and now, the heart of Thomas.

Footsteps stormed by below and the assassin sat up, noting the figure thunder along the path. Thomas jumped down and followed the furious man as he trekked through the jungle.

"Kenway, what's wrong?" Thomas asked, having to jog to keep up.

"It's Vane." He growled. "He's lost his mind but gaining my food. This is the last straw."

"Here's a health to the King and a lasting peace,

To faction an end, to wealth increase,

Come, let us drink it while we have breath,

For there's no drinking after death,

And he that will this health deny,

Down among the dead men,

Down among the dead men,

Down, down, down, down,

Down among the dead men,

Let him lie."

Vane's gravelly voice echoed through the jungle as they hunted the source of the song. They ran on, pushing past bushes and trees until they reached a clearing, stone towers or what used to be buildings, littered the area.

"Go dance with the fisherman and their dories, Kenway!" Vane shouted from atop one of the ruins. "This island's mine! Come at me and I'll cap you, bastard! It were your bloody imagination that landed us here, Kenway! I'll be fined if I let that mind make one more decision for me!"

"Will you not talk to me, Vane?" Kenway called, scanning the area for a way to reach him. "Are you fixed on this madness?"

"Madness? Nothing mad about a man fighting to survive, is there!"

"I mean you no harm, you corker! Now let's work this out like gentlemen!"

"Ah, God." Vane grumbled. "I've got a bleeding headache on account of your jabbering. Now stay back and let me live in peace!"

"I would if you'd stop filching the food I gather and the water I find!"

"I'll stop nothing 'til you've paid me back in blood. You was the reason we were looking for slavers. And you was the reason Jack Rackham took my crew!"

"Kenway, maybe we should leave him-" Thomas started but Kenway waved him off.

"No, I need to talk some sense into him. If we're not careful, this madman is going to kill us all in our sleep just to rule this bloody island."They continued to climb as the furious pirate bolted, scrambling around the rock face.

"Vane!" Kenway roared as a shot rang out.

They reached the top and peered down, seeing Vane race away down the river.

"Face me, man!"

One by one, the assassin and the pirate flung themselves down into the water, wading through the river, jumping onto thick branches to run quicker. They ran further into the jungle, finally leaving the alligator infested waters for dry land. The two slowed, walking towards the madman who sat on an ancient tree branch.

"I said not to follow!" Vane yelled, firing his pistol.

Kenway scrambled for cover, standing behind an old stone structure while Thomas ducked into the shrubbery.

"Jaysus!" Kenway cursed. "You've lost your head, man!"

"And that's just occurred to you now?" Thomas exclaimed.

"It's a fair exchange for finding these flintlocks and grenadoes!" Vane crackled, standing, reloading his newly claimed weapons.

"Listen, Vane!" Thomas stood slowly and raised a hand in surrender. "We could hunt with those guns!"

"And I mean to!" Vane fired his pistol and Thomas threw himself to ground, narrowly missing the shot.

"That bastard!" Thomas spat, checking to see if he was hurt. "Kenway, I'll distract him. Take him out."

He nodded and while Thomas darted across the scene, a moving target too quick to shoot, Kenway had cut across the murky lake, ducking down behind stone chunks of rubble, reaching ever closer. As he did so, Vane began to run, but not before destroying the log that served as a bridge. This didn't stop Kenway and as he climbed, he signalled for the assassin to follow him.

"You and your bloody fairy stories got us into this mess, Kenway!" Vane's voice carried, echoing around them. "And I'll be damned if I let you drag me into another!"

"You keep this up, I'll have to kill ya, Vane!" Kenway threatened.

"Bloody try! By all means!"

Kenway took to the trees as Thomas ran below. As the pirate ran above, he dove out of the way of explosives, small gunpowder barrels laid in wait for him.

"I see you coming, cur! I see you plain and clear!"

Soon, the jungle cleared but the weather did not. With a clap of thunder, rain poured onto them and the two looked up to see Vane standing proud on an old, temple like Mayan structure.

"Only one of us is leaving this island, welchers!" Vane shouted, holding a rifle. "'Cause I'm not gonna sail again in a world cursed by your ugly mug."

"That bloody man." Kenway gritted his teeth. "Thomas, I'm going to have to ask you to distract him again."

"Done." He nodded and took off, cutting and weaving through the scattered rubble, ducking from the gun fire.

Once Kenway was in the clear, Thomas hid, watching the figure climb above Vane. Kenway leaped, wrist blades glinting in what little light was about, slamming into the madman below. Standing, Thomas looked on as Vane rolled, laughing, mocking Kenway for not killing him. But he didn't have to. It wouldn't be long before his mind had rotted so much that only death would change it.


	34. 34 The Rescue

Thomas cleared the jungle, stepping out onto the familiar shore, leaving the two behind him. With a heavy sigh, he gazed out at the same horizon that he had seen a countless times. The sun beat down on him as he thought of the days they'd spent here. Long, insufferable, hot days that he'd exchange in a heartbeat to be anywhere else. And like always, he thought of Jemima. He used to feel guilty because of it, her presence occupying his thoughts more than Elizabeth's, but not anymore. He thought back when he first discovered her identity, then when he helped her to heal. He let his guard down, that brutal assassin exterior crumbling to a caring friend that would do anything to help the people he loved. He saw her at her best; when she fought with the fury of an angered dragon, pistol in one hand, blade in the other, cutting down opponents as if she were swatting flies. At the thought, Thomas smiled, imagining her roaring curses and abuse, all the while grinning like a madman. But, he saw her at her worse too. He remembered, the sounds filling his ears, of her screams, crying out for her father as he crumpled to the ground, his head rolling beside him. He remembered having to pull her away, her strong form now as weak and frail as a leaf, sobbing in protest as she was dragged into the water, leaving her father forever.

In the memory of Edward Thatch, Thomas bowed his head. He respected the man. His ideals weren't perfect, but for a pirate, he was a good man.

"In a land without gold, we might have been heroes." He quoted, recalling Blackbeard's last words.

Thomas lifted his head as the sun that nearly blinded him was obscured by something. Blinking, a large, bulbous silhouette grew before him, as if it was approaching him.

Was he dreaming?

After confirming he wasn't, Thomas nearly cried out with joy as a ship pulled up to the island. Kenway approached him, patting his shoulder as he stepped up to their rescue. Before he boarded, Thomas snatched his assassin apparel that still draped over tree branches, jogging up the smooth wooden planks that he had missed so much.

"Thomas!"

The breath flew out of him as Jemima rushed at him, throwing her arms around him.

"Hallo, Jemima." He smiled and hugged her back. His voice was quiet but the moment was blissful, so grateful for her to be back once more.

"And it's good to see you too, Kenway." Jemima stuck out her hand to which Kenway raised an eyebrow at.

"Nice try, lass." He grinned and pulled her into an embrace. "It does good to see your face again."

"And yours." She nodded to Kenway, but it was obvious to the pirate who she was more pleased to see.

"We haven't been introduced," Kenway turned to the man and young woman who stood behind Jemima.

"This is Alice and her father." Jemima told him as Kenway shook their hands. "Alice helped me escape the... She helped me escape."

In unison, Kenway and Thomas collectively remembered where Jemima had been sent off to.

"Are you... Did you..." Thomas fumbled over his words.

"I wasn't raped if that's what you're asking." She told him. "Your blade made sure of that." Jemima flicked her wrist and gave him a smile.

"That's what it's there for." Thomas felt a huge relief flood him, the heavy weight of the deep fear of Jemima's fate was lifted from his chest.

Kenway stepped up to the wheel and let out a breath, smiling as he felt the heart of the ship in his hands again. As Thomas made ready to join the crew, a flash of deep red caught his eye. The ribbon around Jemima's neck caused her to look as if her throat had been slit, making him feel sick.

"Hey, Jemima..." He signalled to the ribbon and she felt it, suddenly remembering it was there.

She tugged it off and waved Alice over to the side of the ship with her. Seeing the ribbon in Jemima's hand, Alice untied her own restriction and held it out before her. With a smile, the two young women stretched their arms out over the ship's edge and let go, watching the red and lilac strips play in the wind before landing in the water.

"The sea's a beautiful thing." Jemima mused, leaning on the edge, gazing at the ribbons that sunk, dragged under by the waves. "But she's only beautiful so far. She holds pain, death and torment. And now, two more memories of a broken past."


	35. 35 Goodbye

Originally, this scene takes place in May 1719, but I've changed the date to coincide with other things (not spoiling anything) just as an fyi :)

* * *

><p><em>Great Inagua, January 1720<em>

"So, this fantasy of yours has come to an end?" Mary asked Jemima as they stood by the bar, the men sitting behind them around a table.

"Aye." She nodded. "I promised my father he'd see the Observatory one day, and now... Now he never will. I don't think I could go without him being by my side."

Mary patted her shoulder, pitying the girl. Of course, she was strong and brave but the death of her father had crushed her. She would heal in time but not for a long while yet.

"Come with us." Mary invited.

"What?"

"We're taking Rackham back to Nassau. If you're not travelling with Kenway, then travel with us."

Jemima thought on it for a moment and nodded.

"Sure, I'll come with you."

"Good lass." Mary grinned.

"And..." Jemima looked over her shoulder at the assassin that sat beside Kenway. "...Will Thomas be joining us?"

Mary shrugged.

"I haven't asked him yet, although he may be more inclined to follow Kenway."

"Oh."

Mary sighed.

"Jemima, for a bright girl, you don't half do some stupid things."

"What now?" Jemima folded her arms, offended.

"For one, Thomas has promised himself to someone else and you know how much it'll hurt him if he breaks that."

Jemima turned away.

"I wasn't going to... I mean, I don't-"

"Lass, I can read you like a book." Mary told her, turning her back around.

"So what's your second point?" Jemima asked, glancing around, avoiding eye contact as she shifted her weight from one leg to another.

"Secondly," Mary gripped her shoulders and stared her in the eyes, "it'll hurt you even more when he does go back to his girl. Put some distance between you two for now, it'll do you good."

"Fine." Jemima bowed her head and nodded.

The two left the bar and joined the table once more, catching the tail end of Adé's amused story.

"...stealing a fishing schooner single-handed?" Adé said in almost disbelief. "Damned canny, captain."

"As is taking back my brig from this pillock." Kenway nodded to Rackham who sat, handcuffed in the corner. "Once again, I thank you both."

"This Billy-Huff didn't last two months with your ship before he came limping back to Nassau." Mary looked over her shoulder at the miserable man. "Took the pardon straight away."

"I had to, lads!" Rackham protested. "That Rogers was on to me from the first."

"Hold your tongue, Rackham!" Adé stood, his huge form towering over him. He pulled him to his feet and gripped his collar, Rackham stumbling all the way as Adé pushed him on, out of the tavern.

"So what now?" Mary turned to Thomas and Kenway. "Still chasing your elusive fortune?"

"If by elusive fortune you mean my girl in England, then aye." Thomas said and Jemima turned away. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning for England." The assassin glanced to the pirate girl who looked off at the horizon. "And I won't be coming back."

"Hey, um," Jemima stood, avoiding Thomas' eyes. "I'm all out of coin and I need another drink so, I'm gonna go."

Before anyone could offer to pay for her, she stepped down to the docks and boarded Mary's ship, hiding her wet eyes. She shoved open the doors of the captain's quarters and rummaged through the boxes scattered around it, rubbing her nose on her sleeve as she sniffed. Jemima found a bottle and bit the cork off, spitting it to the ground as she glugged down nearly half the bottle. She took a deep breath and put the bottle down, leaning over the desk in the centre of the room.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..." She pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Jemima?"

She gasped, turning to see Thomas at the door. His face was lined with concern, confused at the young woman who left the table abruptly.

"Oh, hallo, Thomas." She sniffed.

"Are you alright?" He stepped towards her and she turned away again.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Over her shoulder, she glanced back at him. "Why are you leaving now? I thought your aim was to get the Sage?"

"By now, I don't know how long that'll be." Thomas sighed. "Four years ago I left England and four years ago, I planned to return. I trust Kenway has this situation under control. He knows what to do and if not, there's Mary to keep him in line. He doesn't need another assassin to scold him like a child."

"And your girl, Elizabeth? You think she'll be waiting for you?"

"I know." He smiled but he doubted his own words. It had been a while since he last wrote. Did she still feel the same as she did when she sent that last letter?

"If I don't leave now," Thomas continued, "I don't know what else will keep me back. It's one thing after another."

'And I don't know how much longer I can stay sane with you here with me, it's just too tempting.' He thought, looking to the beautiful pirate woman beside him.

Jemima wandered about, the bottle hanging loosely in her hand. Her head didn't ache, not yet, but it was screaming at her for a whole other reason. It would be the last day she would ever see Thomas and it hurt her deeply, just like Mary predicted.

Thomas stood to leave, stepping past her and as he did so, Jemima reached for his arm. He stopped.

"Elizabeth is a lucky girl." She said, eyes down, voice timid. "I hope she knows that."

Thomas smiled and gently took her hand.

"Not as lucky as I am."

"She's a beautiful girl, huh?" Jemima looked up, trying a smile.

"Not as half as beautiful as you."

One hand held hers while the other took her face, pulling her towards him. As their lips met, Jemima almost pulled away from surprise, but she fell into the moment and time froze leaving nothing but them. The half empty bottle of rum smashed to the floor, but no one noticed, nor cared.

Their hands began to move on their own accord, Jemima pulled at Thomas' shirt as he grappled with her corset, clothes littering the floor as their bodies slammed into each other. Thomas lifted her up, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the desk. As she leaned back, he pushed everything off the desk onto the floor with one swipe of his arm, their lips barely breaking contact all the while.

Jemima moaned as Thomas worked faster and deeper, his lips trailing down to her neck, her chest. Her hands played with his hair, her thighs rubbing against his sides. One hand was used to support his weight, his sculpted muscles prominent as the other hand ran along her side, up along her leg to keep it around him.

"Thomas..." She whined, her breath growing ragged, her back arching as shots of passion ran through her body.

"Jemima..." He whispered into her neck, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out.

Her hands slammed down on the desk, gripping to the edges and neither of them could hold it back any longer. Her moans grew louder, as did his and they cried out, the final wave of passion slamming into them.

Thomas rolled over, chest heaving as he lay beside her, staring up at the ceiling. Panting, Jemima smiled. He pulled her towards him, his arms wrapped around her as she curled into his body, exhaustion catching up with them as the two lovers succumbed to a peaceful sleep.

His eyes fluttered open and without turning over, he remembered exactly what had happened.

Why did he do that?!

Elizabeth, the girl he had been waiting for for so long, was not far away and yet he can't keep it in his pants for just a few days more! Why?

Carefully, he slipped his arm from under Jemima's sleeping form and sat up. He put his head in his hands, taking a breath. He half regretted what he did, and half didn't. For so long, thoughts of that beautiful woman with dark hair, graceful voice and a glorious body had filled his thoughts, more so than Elizabeth, and he couldn't deny that he had longed to have her. Now that he had, it was all he had hoped it to be and better, but the betrayal to Elizabeth struck him deep.

Thomas stood, dressed and left the captain's quarters of the Jackdaw as quietly as he could. He boarded the ship destined for England and after paying, he stood to the back and waited for it to leave. With a shout from the captain, the ship pulled out from the docks and into open water. Thomas watched Great Inagua slip from sight, not before sighting a figure standing on the back of a ship, still docked, watching him go. As he flicked his sight to Eagle Vision, the dark haired woman turned gold and he knew he had shouldn't have left her behind.

"I'm sorry, Jemima." He whispered as she disappeared. "But I'm not good with goodbyes."


	36. 36 Returning To England

As the carriage rolled to a halt, Thomas jolted awake and yawned, looking out of the window.

"We're here, sir!" The driver called down, patting the side of the carriage.

Thomas stepped out, thanking the driver and paid him, stretching as he looked around the city of London. He fitted in well, dressed as a normal middle class gentleman, his assassin outfit shoved into a travelling bag by his side. However, he stood out by the tanned colour of his skin, quite different compared to the pale Britons. He took a deep breath, recalling the sights, smells and sounds of the London he left behind. It was cleaner than he remembered, although perhaps it just looked better in comparison to Nassau. The city sounded odd as the sound of waves was absent, replaced by children's laughter, chatter of the inhabitants and the rattle of passing carriages.

Getting back on track, Thomas set off through the familiar town, cutting through alleyways and backstreets that he still knew off by heart. He reached a door, usually assumed as just another entrance to a home, but Thomas knew otherwise. He knocked and a shadow passed below the door, a brief moment passing as the person inside inspected the man on the other side. A chain rattled and the door opened, a smiling maid standing before him.

"Welcome, sir, and your name...?" She asked, hands clasped.

"Thomas Young."

"And your creed?"

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted." Thomas replied and flicked his wrist, the blade darting out.

The woman didn't flinch, merely nodded.

"The Master is this way."

The maid lead Thomas through the façade of a London home, stepping down to the basement where the differences began to show. It was much larger than any normal cellar, corridors leading off into various directions, to either secret underground passages from the surface, or to other rooms.

The room itself held various training equipment, assassin uniforms hanging on mannequins with tables and chairs scattered about, tankards left unattended.

Taking a torch from the wall, the maid continued, stepping through a dark corridor, her footsteps echoing about. The corridor wound in several directions, eventually leading to a set of steps, a metal door at the top. The woman knocked and a panel slid away, two eyes on the other side checking who wished to enter.

With a nod, the panel closed, keys clattered in locks and the door opened.

"Go ahead, he's waiting for you." The maid told him.

"Thank you." Thomas gave a smile. "And, in the mean time, could you get this cleaned for me?"

"Of course." The maid took his bag as it was just the uniform that it held and stepped back down into the tunnels.

Thomas turned and looked around the large, mansion looking house. Hidden in plain sight, the assassin hideout had never been discovered, not since it had first been set up here. The house took the image of a regular family home, but it's assassin symbols, various weaponry and decorations proved otherwise.

"Mister Young?"

Thomas spun at the voice and saw the London Master Assassin standing before him.

"Er, hello, sir." Thomas nodded his head in respect and the Master Assassin waved him into his office.

"Thank you for writing ahead, Emilia nearly didn't recognise you with that darkened skin tone you achieved while in the Bahamas, I feared you would have been denied access." He remarked, sitting down behind his desk.

"Just a precaution, after Walpole's betrayal, I know everyone had to take extra measures to ensure the safety and protection of the Brotherhood." Thomas said, standing in front of him.

"Indeed. And speaking of Walpole, I am lead to believe you discovered his intentions and the intentions being to betray us, it was you that carried out his... Extermination?" The Master Assassin, leafed through several documents, some being Thomas' letters.

"That's true, aye." Thomas cringed, not just at the lie as it was in fact Kenway that killed Walpole, but using the vocabulary he had picked up around the crew.

The Master Assassin however, seemed amused by it, and gave a half smile.

"Then a congratulations is in order." He stood, passing over a purse of coin. "Another dead rat makes a better world."

"Thank you, sir." Thomas smiled and pocketed the reward.

"And your hunt of the Sage, in truth, I have not heard much of this man, it was more our tropical and European Brotherhoods that were interested in these matters. Tell me, what did you find?"

"The Sage is said to be the only man who knows where the Observatory is." Thomas said, and at the Master Assassin's blank expression, he continued to explain. "The Observatory is mostly legend, but is said to hold fantastical treasures and a way to see through another man's eyes, to see what he sees as he is somewhere else. It seems unbelievable, but it is widely believed by the Templars and Assassins over in the West Indies."

"And you found him?"

"We did."

"And I trust you took care of him to avoid the Templars gaining the upper hand?"

"I did." Thomas lied again. It was unlikely the Master Assassin would ever find out and he trusted Mary and Kenway had the Sage under control.

"Very good." The Master Assassin smiled. "You have indeed gone beyond the call of duty, Thomas."

He passed over yet another coin purse, larger than before, which Thomas gratefully accepted.

"That will be all for now, but please report back tomorrow, I wish for you to instruct a young assassin in our ways and an exceptional assassin like yourself would be perfect to train the young man."

"Of course, sir. Thank you." Thomas nodded and left, amused by the thought that he was once called the 'young assassin'.

He exited the house through a back door, only to be used by the inhabitants that weren't dressed in the uniform as to not arouse suspicion.

Stepping back out into the streets, Thomas headed for the market, back into the bustle of London civilisation, the talk of people and the shout of sellers filling his ears. The flurry of the crowd pushed him about, tossing him like a boat in the sea as he tried to reach a clearing. Once at the other side, he stopped, taking a breath from the escape.

"Thomas?"

He turned to see a young woman, dressed in elegant attire, a pink lacy umbrella shielding her from the sunlight, matching her gown.

"Elizabeth?"

The young woman nearly shoved the umbrella into the hands of the man beside her, lifted her skirt, and with a joyous cry, ran to embrace him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing as they gripped each other.

"It's been so long!" She exclaimed, standing back to look at the man he'd become.

"It has." He said, taken aback by her overly friendly reunion.

"I thought of you every day you were away."

"So have I." Thomas lied.

"I hear you became a privateer after we parted ways. And a wealthy one at that." A playful smile danced on her face.

"Aye, I mean, yes. It paid well."

"Oh my!" She chuckled. "My bonny sailor boy has picked up the pirate lingo! Oh, that'll be a catch."

"Ah, this must be your Thomas!" A large man said, approaching Elizabeth, the umbrella tucked under an arm.

"Indeed, father." She replied. "And just look at his colour! As if kissed by the tropical sun."

She smiled, stroking his cheek, then turned to her side and bent her arm, inviting him to link arms with her.

"Will you accompany me home, dear Thomas?" She asked, her voice sweet and irresistible.

"Of course, dear Elizabeth."

Thomas took her arm and together, Elizabeth's father walking at a safe distance behind them, they walked though the city of London, the flurry of traffic and bustle of people taking the breath away from the assassin. For so long he'd been at sea, used to the open waters, warm air and the feel of sand beneath his feet. This was home, but it didn't feel like it.

"Tell me, Thomas," Elizabeth said. "Where are you staying and how long will you remain?"

"At an inn, most likely, until I can find somewhere more permanent. I have no reason to leave."

"Nonsense!" She exclaimed. "You will live with me."

"Are... Are you sure?" He couldn't believe it. For years, he'd be planning ways of winning her love back. He didn't expect she'd just invite him in.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. You still love me, don't you?"

He took her hand.

"Of course."

She smiled and stroked his cheek, kissing him tenderly as they paused in the streets.

"And I you."


	37. 37 A Toast

"Anne! Darling!" Rackham called as Jemima and Mary stepped up to the tavern in Nassau where the red headed barmaid turned at the sound of her name.

"Jack?" She strutted over, setting her tray of tankards down on a nearby table, approaching them.

"Anne, you have to listen to me, these two bloody-" Mary kicked his shin and Rackham winced, changing his choice of words. "These two _lovely_ pirates have decided it was better for me to return to Nassau instead of taking any more ships."

"Aye, I heard what you did." The barmaid, Anne, put one hand on her hip, the other pointed at his face. "That was a terrible thing you did, Rackham. Sold two good people and left another three for dead. You've got what's coming to you."

"But, darling Anne-"

"Look, Rackham." She put her head in her hands. "You know I love you, but I don't know how considering all the harm you've done!"

"The harm I've done!" He scoffed. "Alas, I've done a great grievance to many people, but you of all people should be able to look past that!"

"How can I when you're off sailing and I'm stuck here, serving drinks and kicking the drunks away?"

"Hey, lass, I can't settle down, you know that." Rackham told her. "I'm like the waves of the sea, never in one place, setting out somewhere, lapping up at another beach. And at stormy times, I roar at the ships, reckoning-"

"Alright, Rackham, that's enough." Jemima said, cutting him off.

"Maybe... Maybe you could leave here and travel with us?" Rackham suggested.

Anne bit her lip, pondering the idea.

"Perhaps. I don't have any great ties here, not anymore." She shook her head. "Oh, I don't know! Jim, what should I do?"

Obviously, Anne had already met Mary but under a different name. Perhaps it was back when she captured Rackham after he took the pardon, Jemima thought.

"It's an idea. I can see you standing tall on a great ship, shouting orders to the crew, cutting down opponents with a cutlass in your hand." Mary grinned, picturing the scene as the three woman left Rackham by a table and approached the bar. The miserable man slumped down in a seat and reached for the tankards that Anne had left unattended.

"I don't know, Jim." Anne bit her lip again. "I haven't the faintest idea how to pilot a ship. That ain't work a woman does."

"Tosh!" Mary scoffed. "I've seen a score of ladies who can reef a sail and spin a capstan. I mean, Jemima here is living proof of that!"

"And would you teach me to fight? With a cutlass, like?" Anne asked, her voice growing excited, her eyes darting back and forth between the two brave pirates. "And maybe handle a pistol?"

"All that and more." Mary promised.

"But you have to want it." Jemima stated. "And work for it. There's no stumbling into true success."

"Oy! Lad!" Rackham drunkenly yelled at Mary. "That's my lass you're making love to! You lay off or I'll cut ya!"

"Up your arse, Rackham." She spat back. "Lad is the last thing you should be calling me."

"Oh! Oh, is that right, is it? Lad!" He called, draining another flagon, slamming it down.

Mary stormed up to him and grabbed his collar, dragging him to his feet.

"Yeah, that's right." She snarled through gritted teeth. "Call me lad one more time-" her wrist blade shot out, nearly taking off an inch of his chin. "-then you won't be a 'lad' anymore either."

Rackham swallowed and she dropped him. He scrambled to his feet and sat back down, muttering abuse under his breath.

"So, what do ya think?" Jemima asked Anne, arms folded. "Who says a woman can't be threatening?"

Anne grinned.

"Aye, I'd like to prove that."

As Mary approached them, wrist blade retracted, Anne had made up her mind.

"You know what?" Anne announced. "I will, I'll join you."

"Truly?" Rackham asked, the word slurred together as he staggered to his feet again. "You'll join us?"

"Did you get rum in your ears as well as your gob?" Anne laughed. "Aye, I'll join ya."

"My darling Anne!" Rackham stumbled towards her, arms outstretched, then tottered to the side, eventually thumping to the ground.

"Is he-" Jemima stood over the drooling drunk, passed out on the floor.

"Oh, he'll be fine." Anne waved it off. "So, when do we set sail?"

"As soon as we can." Mary said, glancing to the unconscious man.

"A toast is in order, I believe." Anne told them, passing two tankards around. "To the strength and ferocity of women!"

"To fighting for what's right and true!" Mary added, raising her tankard.

"And to the goodness of the future, may it hold us and all we love in good stead!" Jemima finished and the three clanked the tankards together before taking a swig.

Each woman held onto these hopes from the day it left their lips until the day they died. Which for some, was sooner than others.


	38. 38 How Life Should Be

"So, Thomas," Elizabeth said, pouring tea from a delicate teapot into a cup. "What is the West Indies like?"

The three of them, Elizabeth, her father and Thomas, sat in the family living room. It was only Elizabeth and her father that lived there and while the house was under his name, Elizabeth had clearly made the place her own. The decadent furniture was organised tidily around the room, practically every sofa, every pillow, every wall held some kind of shade of pink. Sitting on one of the sofas, Elizabeth nearly disappeared, her dress blending in with the patterned fabric. Looking around, Thomas gave an amused laugh under his breath.

'Jemima would not last one day here,' he thought, 'red is more her colour.'

At the thought of her, he cringed and focused his attention back on his darling Elizabeth.

"It's something, that's for sure." He breathed, recalling the area. "The sun's bright and the sea is warm, the wind gentle and the sky's blue, but all it takes is a moment for the weather to turn, the skies to darken and the waves to throw the ship as if it was no bigger than a dingy."

"Were you in many storms?" She asked, sitting down beside him, her bright blue eyes curious.

"Aye. In fact, in one, I was only one of three to survive the storm." Thomas then grinned. "Well, two by the end of the day."

"Ah, yes, Elizabeth told me you're an assassin. I'm guessing that third man was someone you were paid to kill?" Mr Lovett said.

"Yes, he was a traitor to the Brotherhood, heading for Templars in Havana."

"Ah." He nodded, taking a sip from his cup of tea.

"Tell me, Thomas." Elizabeth rested her head on her hand. "Did you have many fights? Any injuries?" She gasped, sitting up straight. "Were you shot at?"

"No, I wasn't shot." Thomas smiled. "But, I-"

Thomas snapped back to the past, snarling as he fought the fort's guards, kicking soldiers away as he plunged his wrist blades into others.

"Jack!" Kenway called and hearing the name, Thomas spun around.

He saw the young man stand there, sword raised, a pained expression on his face as he glanced down, a burst of red spreading across his chest, just below his shoulder, soaking his shirt. With a brief stumble, he fell.

Thomas remembered tearing across the battlefield, gathering the young man in his arms and lead him to safety, pulling away his shirt to discover... He was a she.

"Thomas? Thomas!" Elizabeth's voice snapped him back to the present and he shook his head.

"Sorry, I was just about to say, I, ah, I helped someone who was shot, looked after them as they recovered."

"Oh my, I didn't think that was something you could recover from." Elizabeth remarked.

"It depends, this was a lucky miss."

"It sounds it."

Thomas rested his arms on the table and Elizabeth noticed the singular blade he had on his wrist.

"Oh, Thomas." She said, taking his hands. "You're missing one!"

"Ah, yes, I lost it in a bet." He admitted.

"A bet? What kind of bet?"

The past dragged Thomas back to it and suddenly, he was back in Great Inagua, Jemima's body pressed against his as he mischievously raised his wrist blade to her throat while she tapped her pistol against his chin, that deadly beautiful smile playing across her face.

"Just settling differences." He smiled, his heart aching at the memory of her.

"And gold! Did you find much gold?" She continued to question him, intrigued.

He could think of nothing, no coin in his hand or purse, but the gold that stood, watching him as he disappeared. He left Jemima behind, the most precious gold of all.

"I... I need some air." Thomas pulled his hands away and stood.

He stepped down the hallway and opened the door, gasping for breath in the London street. Why couldn't he just forget about her? She had probably forgotten about him by now, so he should do the same. He had Elizabeth now, he loved her and she loved him, it was how it was meant to be, but why couldn't she just leave his head?!

"Thomas, are you alright?" Elizabeth approached him, tentatively reaching for his shoulder.

"I'm fine." He smiled, taking her hand. "Couldn't be better."

"Thomas, you know I love you, you can tell me if anything's wrong." She assured him.

"I know." He said and kissed her forehead. "There's nothing that you need to worry about."

"My handsome man, a noble assassin." She smiled, brushing his hair from his face.

"My beautiful girl, a kind and gentle woman." He smiled back and kissed her.

In that moment, he was happy. It was how life was meant to be, how he had imagined life to be from the moment he left England. Truly, he was happy and he loved Elizabeth. But he wasn't as happy as when he was with Jemima. And he didn't love Elizabeth as much as he loved Jemima either.


	39. 39 Playing The Fool

Thomas returned to the Master Assassin's office the next day, finding that his Ezio style robes had been replaced with the usual, British style uniform. Grumbling under his breath, Thomas waited outside, tugging at his sleeves in protest.

"Mister Young?" The voice called from within and Thomas entered, greeted by the Master Assassin and a young boy, possibly sixteen.

"Yes, sir?" Thomas said, glancing to the boy.

"Thomas, this is William Hunt, he's a trainee assassin and I'd like you to accompany him on a field mission today."

"Of course, sir." Thomas nodded.

"Mister Hunt has shown great talent in training, exceptional skill and instinctive action. Much like another young man." The Master Assassin gave Thomas a sly grin, remembering when he first started training.

"Indeed, sir." Thomas grinned back. "And the contract?"

"No killing, I just need some eyes to watch someone. Across the city, there's a group of suspected Templars. I'd like you to follow and track them. Keep out of sight and do not engage." At the last command, the Master Assassin stared directly at the young assassin who bowed his head. "This one was caught signing up for advanced assassin contracts the other week." He told Thomas.

"Sorry, sir." William murmured.

"It's not a problem, just as long as you didn't actually carry it out." He raised an eyebrow at the mischievous assassin.

"Well, we should get going." Thomas said, waving the boy out of the door.

"Ah yes, thank you, Thomas." The Master Assassin said and he nodded in reply.

"So, caught signing up for advanced contracts were you?" Thomas asked, amused as the office door closed behind them.

"Yes, it just... It looked like something I could do. You know, without dying?" William shrugged.

"Look, I was like you once, lad." Thomas smiled as they stepped down into the tunnels. "Not too long ago, actually. I wanted to show my worth by doing everything in a fortnight that others couldn't do in years. I wanted to go out on missions that were too advanced for me and earn more gold than I knew what to do with. But you have to take small steps before you leap."

"But you didn't need the contracts for gold, you went to the Bahamas for that." William said, following Thomas as he took a torch off the wall to light the way. "We heard you dealt with pirates and the like."

"I did, aye, and I earned my fair share of coin from the work I've done. But living on the seas isn't for everyone."

"Would you go back? Or do you prefer England?" The curious boy asked.

"I..." Thomas trailed off. Given half the chance, of course he'd return. His feet preferred the rock of the boat and the soft sand, rather than the firm ground of British turf. And of course, he wished he could be back with Jemima but he was loyal to Elizabeth, as loyal as he could be, and nothing would change that now.

"I don't know, maybe." Thomas shrugged. "I'd like to but England is my home. I can't leave again."

"Is England your home because you were born here? Or because you love it?"

Thomas frowned at the question.

"Because I was born here."

"And do you love the West Indies?"

Thomas gave an amused laugh.

"In a way, I do, aye."

"Then maybe that's your home." William concluded as they cut through more tunnels, heading for the other side of London.

Thinking on it, maybe the boy was right. He did love the Bahamas and all the people he met. He missed the sound of the sea, the cry of animals in the jungles and all the faces he left behind, even Kenway.

"What pirates did you meet?" William asked as the tunnel reached an end. "Were they brutal and fearsome?"

"Aye, they were." Thomas said, putting the torch to the side as he opened the hatch above them. "Particularly one named Blackbeard. The man drank rum with gunpowder and had lit fuses woven into his hat. He could give a man nightmares just by looking at him."

Thomas remembered being back on the Jackdaw, Jemima by his side as it pulled along side Blackbeard's own ship. It was a magnificent thing, decked out with dozens of cannons, a beautiful yet fearsome vessel. He remembered the terrible Edward Thatch, glowing fuses in his hat as his leaned towards Bonnet, growling, the poor merchant quivering in his boots.

"That's your father?" He recalled saying to Jemima who laughed, then turned and stared him deep in the eyes. She too shared her father's dark, almost demonic eyes, piercing into him as she glared.

"Alright. I'm convinced." Thomas said, turning away before her eyes burned any deeper into his soul.

Back to the present day, Thomas and William climbed up a church steeple for a better vantage point, perching on the jutting beam. The young assassin gripped the edge, looking about below.

"I don't see anything." He told Thomas, sitting back in defeat.

"Have you tried _looking_?" The experienced assassin raised an eyebrow with a slight smile and the boy understood.

"Oh..." He looked back to the ground, his eyes shifting into a bird like shape.

"There!" William pointed to a well dressed gentleman below. Of course, Thomas had already seen the target, but he let the junior have this one.

"Good. Let's go. Now remember, keep low." Thomas instructed before springing off the steeple, throwing his arms wide before landing in a straw pile below.

Thomas brushed the straw off him, standing, just as the boy landed with a 'whump' behind him. The two assassins crept through the city, keeping the target in sight.

"Did you see many Templars while you were in the Bahamas?" William asked, but Thomas waved him down.

"Yes, but now's not the time for stories. Hush and keep close."

The followed on, cutting through the town. Thomas tried to take the lead but William eagerly ran on, his steps quicker than his superior and the distance between him and his target began to close at an alarming rate.

As the Templar man glanced over his shoulder, Thomas pulled the impatient boy back into the shadows.

"Will, I said keep low!" Thomas hissed, letting go of his collar.

The young assassin mumbled an apology but continued to creep ahead of Thomas, despite his angry commands to come back. Thomas began to grow afraid, if the Templar saw William, he'd kill him and although he had 'exceptional' skill, it wouldn't be enough to save him from whatever the Templars had in store. The entered an alley and while Thomas lingered behind, William was practically right behind the man.

"Will! William!" He quietly shouted through gritted teeth as the young assassin crept up behind him, wrist blade extended. "What are you doing, lad?!"

William raised his arm to grab the man and Thomas nearly shouted for him to stop, breaking his cover. The Templar spun and grabbed the boy's arm, fear and shock alighting on his face. The Templar smashed his fist across William's face with his spare hand and threw the assassin to the floor.

"Will!" Thomas yelled and leapt at the Templar.

The man glanced up, just in time to see the white flash pin him to the ground, slicing his wrist blade through his neck. Thomas knelt beside the corpse and rummaged through his clothing, checking for documents or anything which would give the assassins an advantage. May as well make the best of the situation.

"Hey, Thomas," William stood, holding his bloody nose, "thank for that, I-"

"You bloody fool, Will!" Thomas barked, standing and towering over the boy. "You could have died!"

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"If I wasn't there, that Templar would have gutted you before you could call for help!"

"I said I'm sorry!" William insisted. "Look, my mother was an assassin, and since she died, I've been trying to prove-"

"I don't give a fuck about your sob story, boy!" Thomas snarled, grabbing the young assassins collar, shaking him. "If you had been with someone less experienced than you, you could have got them killed too! Do you want their blood on yours hands just because of your bumbling stupidity, that you can't even follow the simplest of orders?!"

"Leave me alone!" William cried, pulling himself away and stormed up the alley, back to the London streets.

He stopped at the end of the alley, standing in the sun light, his silhouette standing strong.

"You know what?" He spat. "I heard that Thomas Young was brave, talented and kind. That he helped anyone he could. But I know different. You're no better than those fucking pirates. Thomas Young, you're a prick."

And with that, the young assassin disappeared, leaving Thomas in the dark alley, wondering if he was more pirate than assassin after all.


	40. 40 Plunder And Pain

In the quiet night, the sea gently rocked a fishing boat about, its crew lazily dragging in the nets of the days catch. Around it were several more, and like them, all wanted to be home, warm in bed instead of out in the cold.

Then, from the dark, a lone rowboat drifted towards them. It's occupants features were hidden, but three figures were recognisable in the dark. Some of the sailors stopped their chore to investigate. As the rowboat drifted closer, into the light of the lamps, three young women smiled up at the men.

"Come all you pretty fair maids,

Whoever you may be,

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

My heart is pierced by Cupid,

I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold."

Their voices hung eerily in the cold night air as all the sailors left their post, drawn to the beautiful young women.

One fishing boat cast out a rope to which one woman caught and tied to the front of the rowboat as the crew hauled them in. The eager sailors reached out for the women, helping them aboard.

"Beautiful lady," one breathed to the dark haired one, still holding her hand as she stood on deck, "tell me your name."

The woman gave a wicked smile and stared at him with her burning eyes.

"It's your worst nightmare."

Jemima pulled out her pistol and pointed it at the sailors cowering face. As she did so, Anne and Mary did the same. They were outnumbered, but they were armed.

"Right ho, lads!" Anne roared. "It looks like we're taking all this plunder now!"

"Oh, yeah?" One sailor scoffed. "You and what army?"

Mary whistled and out of the darkness, a ship burst from the gloom, its crew yelling and shouting as they swung down to the fishing boats.

"Ah, hello, darling." Rackham greeted Anne, kissing her cheek as he wrapped one arm around her, the other armed with a pistol. "Magnificent work you've done here."

"Thank you, Jack." She grinned, kissing him back. "Told you I could do it."

"I had no doubt about it, love." He smiled, before turning on the sailors. "Right, you heard the lady! Hop it!"

When no one moved, Rackham stepped up to a sailor closest to him, pressed his pistol against his forehead and pulled back the trigger. With a rumbling shot, the sound crackles through the air as the sailor collapsed, his eyes wide, a hole in his head.

"Or, do you need to be told twice?"

The sailors, from all directions, leapt into the water, fleeting the boats in fear of the pirates. The crew roared its victory, waving various weapons in the air.

Rackham kicked the body into the water as he pocketed the pistol, waving for the crew to begin salvaging the goods.

"Dammit, Rackham!" Mary growled. "I said no killing!"

"Ooh, my!" He jeered. "For an assassin, your morals seem a bit spun out of joint!"

"How was that justified?!"

"It was proving a point!"

"You could have proved the point in another way, not by killing him!"

"Hey, shut it, you two!" Anne shouted, standing between them. "Bickering solves nothing!"

"He shot him!" Mary yelled back.

"Oi, I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it!"

"Oh, just because he shares a bed with you, don't think you have to stand up for him all the time!"

"Hey, who I sleep with has nothing to do with you, Mary!" Anne snarled, turning red. "Or, might I remind you of a certain fella who's taken a fancy to your bed, hm?"

"Don't you dare-"

"Hang on," Jemima joined in. "Mary, you never mentioned this bed-fellow of yours?"

"It's none of your business." She growled. "Just because you couldn't get Thomas into your bed, you've got no right to-"

"Mary, stop it." Anne snapped, noting Jemima's pained expression.

"Actually, I did." Jemima said, her teeth gritted. "He fucked me before he left forever, happy now?"

"Ah, Jemima, look, I didn't mean to-" Mary started, but Jemima jumped aboard the rowboat and snatched the oars, making her way back to the ship.

"Shit, I didn't know..." Mary shook her head and Anne patted her arm.

"No one did. She kept it pretty secret."

"Aye. Why couldn't that bastard keep it in his pants for one more night? Jemima's hurting bad, isn't she?"

Anne watched the pirate fade into the black of night and bowed her head.

"Oh aye. She is."


	41. 41 When The Past Catches Up

"So..." The Master Assassin paced up and down his office, studying various documents that he picked up off his desk.

Thomas stood still, hands behind his back as he waited for the Mentor to finish his sentence.

"So, it appears that young William Hunt has withdrawn his request to be tutored by you, Thomas." He said, looking up.

"I can imagine so, he took what I said very seriously." Thomas said, bowing his head.

"Yes, he seemed quite distressed by your choice of words. However, I've been informed that it was in fact his impatience that led you to this... Outburst."

"That's true, sir. He was following the Templar too closely and he was detected. I had no choice but to kill the man before he killed William."

"Ah, yes." The Master Assassin nodded as he sat back down at his desk. "Now, here's my dilemma. While you are an exceptionally skilled assassin-"

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't interrupt." He held up a hand. "While you are an exceptionally skilled assassin, maybe you aren't ready to take on students of your own. I understand that you were angry and well within your right to reprimand him for it, but to tell him that his mother, who was also a very talented assassin, was a whore and deserved to die is quite-"

"Wait, he told you I said that?" Thomas stepped forward, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"I said, don't interrupt. And yes, he told me you said that, and might I had how insensitive it was. It hasn't been long since her passing, you know."

"I never said that." Thomas said. "I told him I didn't care, but I never said that."

The Master Assassin gave a puzzled look.

"Can you confirm this?"

"On my life, I swear I never told him that."

Thomas stood with his hand on his heart and the Master Assassin shook his head, sighing.

"Ah, young boys, how they love to twist the truth to suit themselves."

"Sir, does that change anything?"

"Yes, I should say it does." The Master Assassin didn't look up as he scrawled down something on his documents. "You will continue to assist William in his training, as punishment for his untruth. Any requests?"

"Yes, sir." Thomas nodded. "That any field missions are to be completed by myself alone to avoid any possible risk that William could cause."

"Agreed. Thank you, Thomas."

"Thank you, sir."

Thomas left the Mentor's office and headed down to the training room. As he walked, he felt his footsteps grow heavier, his pace quicken. That damned kid! He lied to the Master Assassin, just because he'd been yelled at and all to stop being taught be Thomas. He growled curses under his breath as he stormed up to the training room.

'No,' he thought, shaking his head, 'being angry is what got you into this place.'

He slowed his pace and relaxed his shoulders. When he sighted the boy, sitting at the table, eating a lunch prepared by the house staff, he nearly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground, but he calmed himself enough to restrain his actions.

"William."

At his voice, the boy turned, the food nearly falling out of his mouth as the sight of him.

"It's not right to lie you know." Thomas said, stepping towards the boy.

"It's in our creed!" He protested, standing, trying to get away from him. "Nothing is true, right?"

Thomas continued to walk towards the boy, backing him against the wall. William, wide eyed, gasped as he felt the stone wall against his back, all hope of escape, gone. Thomas raised his wrist blade, holding it to the boy's neck.

"And everything is permitted." He grinned. "Oh my, William. It's going to be an interesting couple of weeks."

It had been two months since Thomas's arrival in England and not one day had passed when he hadn't thought about the Bahamas, his adventures and Jemima. He continued to train William, despite his reluctance, teaching him power, agility and patience. The boy learned to respect his teacher, his authority being made very clear, and soon listened to every word and heeded every command. Thomas left William to go on Templar hunts, much to the boy's annoyance, but he claimed he still hadn't learned the necessary behaviour to join him.

Thomas set about tracking his findings, pieces of paper full of descriptions, locations and brief sketches of suspected Templars scattering the bedroom he shared with Elizabeth. She said she didn't mind but he often caught her attempting to tidy the mess, despite his assurance that it was meant to be laid out that way. In her attempt of tidying, various papers went missing, probably pieces of various information that she found unimportant, and binned it. Thomas tried not to mind, but he often found himself grumbling under his breath as he drew out a second, third or fourth copy.

And so, as the weeks trailed by, he lay there, in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling as Elizabeth slept beside him. He tried to keep his mind on the task, focusing on the images of the Templar men but nothing kept him from drifting back to the people he left behind.

"Thomas?"

He jolted at her voice, his eyes snapping to the ghostly figure at the foot of his bed.

"Jemima?" He murmured, his eyes widening.

The young woman stood, still, dressed in her usual attire but with the addition of a red ribbon around her neck.

"Thomas," she whispered, her hand reaching for him. "Come back. I need you."

"No, you don't. Elizabeth needs me and I need her."

"Please."

"This is my home."

"Is it?"

Thomas paused. What was she saying? Of course it was! This was just his stupid imagination, nothing more.

"Thomas." She begged. "Please."

As the red ribbon began to bleed, Thomas gripped the mattress, his mouth open, trying to find his voice. The blood dripped down her neck as she cried for him, turning her head to the ceiling.

"Jemima!" He screamed as she disappeared, her cries fading away into the night.

"Thomas?" Elizabeth shook his shoulder, her face lined with concern. "Thomas, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep." He breathed heavily, still focusing on the place where Jemima stood.

She frowned, but said no more and rolled back over.

Once he was sure Elizabeth was asleep, Thomas climbed out of bed and stepped over the papers and towards the window. He looked out into the London night and tried to remember what the moon looked like when it fell across the sea. But his eyes caught something else and leaning down, he picked up a sketch of what he thought was a Templar woman, but Jemima's face smiled back. His heart leapt at the sight of her and he couldn't work out if he had drawn it absent mindedly, or if he was still dreaming.

In the silence, Thomas put his hands to his face, letting the paper fall back to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Jemima." He wept. "I'm so sorry..."


	42. 42 Drinking To Defeat

After the succession of robbing the fishing boats, the pirates decided a celebration was in order. Rum was handed around like it would never run out and joyous cries filled the late afternoon air. Aboard the ship, the crew danced, or rather, staggered about, singing at the top of their lungs as the pirates sat and watched on, amused.

"You're not having anything?" Sam asked, slumping down on the floor beside the three women.

They quickly glanced to one another before shaking their heads.

"In that case," he sighed, "neither will I."

"Ah, you're a good man, Sam." Anne smiled. "You know not to tempt the ladies."

"Oi!" Rackham drawled as he sauntered over. "Don't you go tempting my lady now."

"Oh, Jack." Anne laughed as the pirate thumped down beside her. "I told you not to call me a lady."

"Aye, that you did." He grinned and pulled her into his lap. "Since I wouldn't do _this_ to no lady."

She burst out laughing as he fell about kissing her neck, caressing her hair as she pushed him back.

"Jack, stop it!" She laughed.

The three grinned at the couple's display of affection but they soon calmed and Anne relaxed, curling up in Rackham's arms as he held her. Sam smiled and put an arm around Mary and she rested her head on his shoulder. At the sight of the pairs, Jemima's heart felt as if it had been struck by a pin. She longed for Thomas to be beside her, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. Anne noticed her mournful expression and patted her back.

"Cheer up, lass." She lifted her chin. "We just took a some bloody good loot. Now's not the time to be sad, it's a time for celebration!"

At her raised voice, the drunken crew, barely able to stand up, roared a cheer and Jemima smiled.

"There's that Jemima that we know and love." Anne grinned.

The five sat amid the chatter and bumbling fools of their crew, almost ignoring them as they spoke on times past. They recalled meeting each other for the first time, the various stories that lead to where they were today. Sam remembered meeting Jemima, or rather, Jack first, the young boy of seventeen joining the crew of the infamous Blackbeard and befriending the cabin boy. And years later, he discovers Jack's true identity, and not much changed. They remained friends and he saw her as an equal, knowing that she could kick his head in if he told her otherwise.

Anne spoke on meeting Mary, remembering knowing exactly who she was from the moment they met, much like when Mary first met Jemima. With a smile, Mary spoke up, telling of how she met Sam.

"I distinctly remember you calling me a 'yellow bastard' when you dared me to swim across an alligator infested lake and I said 'no'." Sam remarked.

"I did it and I'm still here, what harm could it have done you?" She jabbed his chest.

Sam didn't answer but laughed and poked her back. Jemima grinned. For as long as she could remember knowing Sam, he had a pathological fear of alligators, which she often took advantage of with the help of a candle, a sheet and her expert skills at shadow puppetry.

"And I remember meeting you, lass." Rackham trailed a finger through Anne's red hair.

"Oh, yes." She grinned. "Called me 'dear lady', didn't ya?"

"Did I? Must of slipped my memory."

"Doesn't everything." She gave him a wicked smile before pulling him into a kiss.

Despite the love and friendship that surrounded her, Jemima didn't feel like she belonged. Mist flowed over the waters surface and pulled a cloak around the ship, obscuring anything further away than thirty feet. Jemima stood, leaving the pairs and clambered up the rigging, perching on the mast. Even high up, the mist was forming a cocoon around them. With a sigh, she looked out, watching the fog curl and twist in accord to the waves that moved beneath it.

"Yo, ho, all together,

Hoist the colours high,

Heave ho,

Thieves and beggars,

Never shall we die."

Jemima's voice drifted ominously through the cold air as she thought of times past. All the pirates and equally, all the great men she ever met, they were gone from this world, but in her heart, they would never die.

Her mind wandered and Jemima imagined a figure step through the mist, his hood back to reveal his smiling face. Thomas stood among the fog, his appearance as misty as his surroundings.

Suddenly, his smile dropped. His eyes on her, he stood still, transfixed. Jemima swallowed and gripped the wooden posts.

'Trouble.' He mouthed and dissolved, just as a ship burst through the fog.

"Anne! Mary! Sam!" She screamed.

The three glanced up and barely had enough time to react before the Man O' War crashed into the side of the ship.

"Come on, men!" Anne roared, waving her cutlass in the air. "Playtime's over! It's time we fight!"

The drunken men shouted in agreement but stumbled about, some calling abuse to their enemy in over confidence, others wailing for mercy as they curled up in defeat on the deck. Rackham staggered about, holding his sword in the air as he tried to defend himself from the boarding soldiers. He managed to hold his own, much better than the other crew members who were swiftly cut down. Jemima flew to the deck, taking down an unaware soldier with Thomas' wrist blade before drawing her pistol, firing in all directions, then jumping into the fight. Only Mary, Anne, Jemima and Sam were sober but it made little difference as they watched their crew fall, vastly outnumbered.

"Mary!" Anne shouted, sighting the assassin fall.

Mary was kicked down by a brute, his axe raised to end the life of his victim. She winced, holding up an arm in defence, to no avail. As the brute's head flew off, she scrambled back, eyes widening as Sam stood behind the body, crumpled to the ground, bloody sword in hand.

"Sam!" She jumped to her feet and rushed to embrace him.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, the near death experience catching up on her. Mary stepped back from the smiling man, ready to fight once more. At his pained expression, Mary gripped his weak hands, panicked at the blood that dripped through the hole in his belly and screamed as he fell. Jemima sliced down the soldier but it was too late. Kneeling on the deck, Mary held Sam as the life dripped from the gaping wound in his back. The sword had sliced right through.

"Sam, no!" She begged him to stay with her as he shook, breathing heavily.

"We yield! We yield!" Anne shouted, dropping her cutlass.

Jemima and Rackham did the same but as their swords clattered to the floor, their glanced about, realising they were the only ones to do so.

"They're all dead." Jemima breathed, still bodies of the crew members littered everywhere.

Sam gasped, drawing in his last breath, struggling to focus his eyes on the woman he lay beside. Their eyes met as he exhaled, his chest stilling, a faint smile on his lips.

The ship went silent.

Mary stood, remaining strong as she stepped away from the prone form.

"Aye, we surrender." Mary held up her hands and the surviving four were dragged aboard the Man O' War.

Mary and Jemima took as last, lingering look at all the crew that had fallen. As their eyes found the body of Sam, a lover and a friend, they turned away, whispering apologies and stepped aboard, defeated.


	43. 43 The Trial

_Port Royal, Jamaica, April 1720_

Few people had gathered to see the trial. More men accused of piracy was nothing new, so the majority of civilians trailed about in the background, getting on with their daily lives. But when the civilians saw the accused, they were intrigued. What were these three women doing here, wrists shackled and their weapons confiscated? Were they pirates too?

The judge had to speak loudly over the general chatter of the Port Royal inhabitants, his patience wearing thin as one of the pirate women would yawn, receiving a ripple of laughter among the crowd. So the people watched, most, tired of these seemingly never ending trials, others, curious on how this would play out.

"M'lord, His Majesty's court contends that the defendants, Mary Read, Anne Bonny and Jemima Thatch, did piratically, feloniously, and in an hostile manner, attack, engage and take seven certain fishing boats." A captain announced, holding the parchment he read from out in front of him. "Secondly, this court contends that the defendants lurked upon the high seas and did set upon, shoot at and take, two certain merchant sloops, thus putting the captains and their crew in corporeal fear of their lives."

Ignoring the announcement, the three woman exchanged a glance as a ragged looking man was dragged out, two red coats either side of him. Kenway was shoved down on a bench to watch the trial.

Jemima glanced to the pirate, growling under her breath as she recognised that bastard Woodes Rogers behind him. Their voices were hushed but the conversation was dark. Kenway said something, wrestling in his bonds, obviously distressed.

"You, Mary Read, Anne Bonny and Jemima Thatch, are to go from hence to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution," at the word, Kenway squirmed in his seat, but the three condemned prisoners made no reaction, in fact, giving a wicked smile, "where you shall be severally hanged by the neck til you are severally dead, dead, dead!"

"Oh, rot!" Anne barked a laugh.

"May God in his infinite mercy be merciful to each of your souls-"

"We're pregnant!" Jemima yelled, cutting off the judge, the crowd uttering gasps between them.

"Do you all hear that?" Mary called, knowing they now had the upper hand.

"What the devil did she say?" The judge demanded, turning to a captain beside him.

"They plead their bellies, M'lord."

"Aye!" Anne confirmed. "You can't hang a woman quick with child, can ya?"

As the crowd grew restless, the judge thumped his gavel on the desk.

"Quiet! Quiet!" He ordered. "If what you claim is true, then your executions will be stayed, but only until your terms are up."

"Then I'll be up the duff the next time you come knocking!" Anne shouted, receiving amused laughs from the crowd.

"Remove them!" The judge yelled, waving them away.

The three women were led away, grins still painted on their faces.

"Alright, lads." Mary grinned, turning her back and holding out her shackled wrists. "Off with these things then!"

"Yep, come on, lads!" Jemima said and she and Anne joined Mary, waving the handcuffs in front of them.

The two guards looked to each other and the women's faces fell.

"You have to free us!" Anne protested. "We're pregnant!"

"Not likely," one scoffed. "We let you go, and what? You go get knocked up the second you pop out this one? You said it yourself, whore."

Anne's mouth hung open, unable to respond.

"Keep moving." The other snarled and pushed them on with his rifle.

"No!" Jemima yelled, furiously shaking in her bonds. "Kenway!"

The pirate turned, hearing his name and tried to reach them, held back by the other guards.

"Anne! Jemima! Mary!" He called back.

"They're not letting us go!" Jemima shouted to him, resisting the guards attempts to drag them away to prison.

"You bastards!" Kenway roared at them. "Can't you see they're pregnant?! Let them go free!"

"No can do." The guard gave an awful smile before shoving Jemima after the others, making her stumble.

"No! Kenway!" She screamed, watching as he was dragged away, orders of 'send him to the gibbet!' joining her cries.

"Shut it, you!" A guard spat and cracked the back of his rifle against her head.

Jemima's eyes rolled back and everything faded to black, just as the stone floor rushed up to meet her.


	44. 44 Decisions

At a rap at the door, Thomas stood from the kitchen table to answer it. Like every morning, he ate breakfast beside Elizabeth in her overly pink kitchen before the monotony of the day began. Her father was rarely home, respecting the couple's wish to be alone together, choosing instead to be on business elsewhere.

"Who could that be?" Elizabeth asked as she poured herself a cup of tea while he left the kitchen, heading down the hall.

Thomas shrugged. He opened the door to reveal a postman.

"I was told to give this to you directly." He said, passing a letter over. "You are Thomas Young, right?"

"I am." Thomas confirmed, taking it.

"Good day to you. Sir, Madame." He nodded to Thomas and Elizabeth who approached them before leaving.

"Sounds important." She remarked as Thomas looked over the envelope, closing the door behind him.

"Mhm." He murmured as he opened it, noting the assassin symbol on the top of the letter.

"The British Brotherhood?" She asked as they stepped back into the kitchen.

"No, the Caribbean one." He replied, standing beside the table.

He was silent for a while as he read. Painfully silent.

"Well, what does it say?" She asked, trying to read it over his shoulder.

Thomas sat down solidly on the kitchen chair.

"Is it bad?"

"I think you should sit down." Thomas signalled, the letter held away from him as he squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, okay."

He took a deep breath.

"Thomas, say something." She pleaded, his silence concerning her.

"While I was in the Caribbean, I..." He turned away. "I was with another woman."

Elizabeth bowed her head.

"I understand. You must have been lonely. Just as long as she meant nothing to you, I'm the one you love-"

"She meant a lot to me. She still does."

"You love her?"

"I... I don't know."

Elizabeth shut her eyes as if to will this all away.

"But I don't understand what this has to do with the letter."

"Jemima, the woman back in the Bahamas... She's been sentenced to death for piracy."

"You have some choice in women." She said bitterly, failing to hide her pain.

"And... She's with child."

Elizabeth looked up to Thomas, her eyes wet as she gazed at him.

"Please, don't say it..." She begged.

"And it's mine."

"I have to go back." Was Thomas's first words after Elizabeth had finished sobbing.

"You can't!" She exclaimed, holding her head.

"I must. She's in danger and it's my child."

"Don't leave me for this pirate whore!" She screamed, standing. "Let her die!"

Thomas was taken aback.

"I won't let her die! The child is my responsibility just as much as hers and I couldn't bear it if anything happened to her."

Elizabeth stared down at him, anger replacing her sorrow.

"If you love me, you'll stay. And if you leave, we're over."

Thomas bowed his head. He loved Elizabeth, but his heart longed to return to Jemima.

"Thomas? Answer me!"

"Just, just let me think about this." He stood, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other holding his face. "I still have contracts to complete for the Brotherhood. Once I complete that, I'll have made up my mind whether to stay or leave."

"Fine." She said, and swept out of the room.

Thomas cursed, hands pulling at his hair before he turned his attention to the letter. With a roar, he tore it to pieces, his fury released in the tiny scraps of paper that floated around the kitchen.

He had to make up his mind soon.

In no mood for breakfast, Thomas collected his notes and left the house there and then, storming towards the Brotherhood. He dressed quickly and rushed out once more, focusing his raw energy on hunting the Templars.

Running across the rooftops, he found his feet to be heavier than normal, his anger weighing him down. Perching on a chimney, he stared out at the city. He couldn't help but feel trapped, despite his physical freedom. Like Jemima, he was imprisoned, conflicting emotions holding him down, pulling him forward.

He leapt down, crashing into a straw pile below, as if the wind rushing past him could clear his head.

Keeping to the shadows, he spotted his target. This man, always cloaked, his face never seen. He had collected information for every suspected Templar in the area, dispatching more assassins to focus in depth on his findings, but this one man, he didn't know.

He walked on and Thomas followed, hiding in the crowd if he took the street way or watching from the rooftops if he followed from above. The man met with another, their voices low as they spoke.

"Must you be so mysterious?" The other man asked, known as Thadias Jones.

"Yes." The cloaked man replied. "Just in case we are followed."

Thomas shrunk further back, in case any suspicions rose.

"I doubt that, sir." Jones assured him. "Please, take down your hood, it's difficult to talk to a man who has his face obscured."

"Very well." He sighed and pulled back his hood.

Thomas froze.

"Right then, Mr Lovett." Jones continued. "Where to now?"

It was Elizabeth's father. He was a Templar.

He left the scene, tearing across town as he raced back home. He was so stupid! All this time he had spoken of his missions to Elizabeth and her father over dinner, he was telling a Templar!

His feet thundered on, flying through through the streets. When his house came into sight, he didn't slow. Fear struck him to his core as the door swung open, loose on its hinges.

"Elizabeth!" He yelled, stepping into the hallway. "Where are you?"

The house was wrecked. Pictures hung slanted on the walls, chairs and tables were over turned, ceramic plates and cups lay shattered on the floor.

"Elizabeth!"

Thomas ran up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. The bedroom was just as bad, if not worse, than the rest of the house. Everything was torn, shattered, ruined. But that wasn't what he was worried about.

"Elizabeth!" He roared, his voice ringing hollow around the ransacked home.

His eyes caught sight of note, pinned to the wall by a knife. Tearing it from the weapon, Thomas read it, hands shaking.

'Mister Young,

If you wish Miss Lovett to be returned to you, alive, then you will heed our commands. Go to the warehouse by the river Thames. You will need nothing but yourself and the information you possess.

You have until noon.'

Thomas yanked the knife from the wall and studied the hilt.

Of course.

A Templar cross decorated it, turning his heart to ice. The Templars had Elizabeth.

He made up his mind.

He was staying.


	45. 45 The Trap

Despite the silence, Thomas wasn't alone. He knew this and so every footstep was taken in absolute caution. He glanced around, noting the seemingly empty warehouse, innocent shadows decorated around it. As he reached the door, it creaked open, revealing the young woman tied to the chair, gagged.

Thomas didn't run to her, as much as he wanted to. He knew it was a trap, he wasn't stupid, but she looked so afraid.

"Where are you?" Thomas bellowed, stepping into the warehouse, empty bar one young woman. "I'm here, just like you asked!"

Three figures stepped out from the shadows at the far end of the warehouse.

"So you are..." The man in the middle nodded, his hood still covering his face.

He was flanked by two other men, their identities clear to Thomas.

"Lovett!" Thomas took another step forward, carefully. "How could you do this? To your own daughter?!"

"Father?!" Elizabeth managed to mumble through her gag, trying to turn herself to see him.

Mr Lovett pulled back his hood and gave Thomas a smile.

"So it was _you_ that followed us. Now, do you have the information we require?"

"And if I don't comply? You'll kill your own daughter?"

Elizabeth shrieked in her seat, wriggling about in fear.

"If need be." Mr Lovett sighed, standing behind his daughter, a hand resting on the back of the chair. "So... Tell about the Sage."

Thomas' nails pierced the palms of his hands. He ground his teeth, his anger rising. Could he sell out the Brotherhood, not just here, but the one in the Bahamas? Could he put his friends lives at risk, just to save one girl?

Maybe Lovett was bluffing. Maybe if Thomas didn't tell him anything, he wouldn't kill his daughter. But he couldn't risk it.

"The Sage is the only man who knows the location of the Observatory." He said through gritted teeth.

"Go on."

"His name is Bartholomew Roberts, a Welshman."

"And I'm given to understand that you told the Brotherhood that he was dead."

"Yes."

Lovett smiled.

"Oh, my boy. That's excellent."

He turned to the other two men.

"You see, the Brotherhood believe the Sage is dead and will no longer go after the man. But we know different." Lovett turned back to Thomas.

"Thank you." He said and drew a knife.

Thomas swallowed and took another step but Lovett merely cut the bonds of his daughter. Elizabeth tugged the gag from her mouth and ran to Thomas, tears filling her eyes.

"Thomas!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him.

He held her tight, relief flooding him that he knew she was safe. He stroked her hair, whispering promises that she's fine, she's safe now.

Elizabeth looked up and smiled.

Thomas would have smiled back, but her eyes were no longer tearful, but dark and full of evil and hate. That smile was not one of assurance and love, but of wickedness.

"Elizabeth-" He started, but cried out as he felt a sharp pain in his back.

Elizabeth plunged the drugged dart into his back, grinning as he fell.

Betrayed, Thomas couldn't find the words he wished to say. But that could just have been the drug restricting his movements, his muscles stilling as he tried to shout out, but couldn't. Before the darkness caught up with him, the last thing he saw was Elizabeth, the woman he loved, standing over him, dart in hand, that wicked smile playing on her lips.


	46. 46 Sickness Spreads

Jemima walked down the velvet carpeted aisle, invisible to the people around her, seated on the pews. Light poured in through the decadent, stained glass windows, but all Jemima felt was darkness.

Step by step, she approached the end of the church, stopping before she reached the steps. A man and woman stood before each other, one smartly dressed in a suit, the other, beautiful in her white dress, flowers decorating her golden hair. They gazed into each other's eyes, so full of love. All other sound faded away, just leaving behind the two words spoken by the couple.

"I do." She whispered, her fingers intertwined with his.

"I do." He breathed, unable to take his eyes off her and turn to the woman who watched from the aisle.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Thomas leaned down to Elizabeth and Jemima cried out. Even more so when the bride thrust a dagger through her groom's stomach, kissing him anyway.

"Jemima!"

The young woman woke, panting, forehead dripping with sweat as Mary shook her. The darkness of the Jamaican prisons weren't exactly a welcome sight, but she would rather be here than live her nightmare.

"Jemima! What's wrong?"

"Nightmare..." She managed, before falling to her side, exhausted.

Mary held her, lying her across her lap, feeling her forehead. In was uncomfortable, Mary's belly pressed against her head but Jemima didn't complain.

"Anne!" She called to the cell beside them. "Jemima's sick! She's burning up!"

"Jemima!" Anne called back, the sound of her gripping the bars rattling around the prison. "Stay with us!"

The young woman groaned, her head swimming as her body burned. Her eyes fluttered, trying to focus on Mary, to no avail.

"Jemima!"

Mary took off her head band and reached for a battered tankard of water. She drenched the cloth in it and placed it over Jemima's head. Weakly, Jemima put her hand to the cloth, murmuring thanks as her eyes shut.

Mary stroked Jemima's hair as she slept, calming her as she struggled, face contorted in fear as she dreamt of terrible things.

Jemima didn't get any worse, but she wasn't recovering either. Mary continued to stay beside her, trying to heal her with the little resources they had. Everytime a guard walked past, Anne shook the cell door, yelling for him to help the young woman, but they would just ignore her. Whatever came first, death at the scaffold or death in prison, it was of no consequence to them.

"Mary..." Jemima wearily said, eyes half open.

"What is it?" She replied, cradling her in her arms.

"You shouldn't be helping me." She breathed.

"Why not? I'm our friend, I'd do anything for you."

"You'll catch it." Jemima managed before breaking out into a fit of coughs.

"I don't care." Mary told her. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't die." She smiled. "Just as long as you do the same if I do get sick."

"Of course." Jemima gave a weak smile.

In the eery quite of the prison, Anne decided to fill the silence.

"Far have I travelled,

And much have I seen,

Dark distant mountains,

And valleys of green,

Past painted deserts,

The sunsets on fire,

As he carries me home to,

The Mull of Kintyre."

Jemima smiled and slipped back into the past. There she was, by that waterfall, her voice pure and strong as she bathed, everything peaceful for once. And then there was Thomas. He was there, singing with her and oh, how seductive he was. He was so close to her, barely an inch between them. She wanted him back, holding her close once more.

As Jemima fell asleep, she dreamt, for the first time in a long time, of happy times and those days that she missed.


	47. 47 Betrayal Of The Heart

His vision was foggy and his body ached as he tried to open his eyes. Thomas groaned, leaning forward as he tried to focus on his surroundings. As he tried to rub his eyes, he found that his arms didn't respond.

Wait, where was he?

Despite his clouded vision, he managed to make out high walls, boarded up windows and a blonde haired woman standing in front of him.

"So you're awake them?" Elizabeth remarked to the assassin, bound to the chair, the drug still yet to fully wear off.

"Elizabeth..." He grumbled. "What have you done?"

"Well, I suppose its time you knew the full story." She sighed.

"I think you owe me that much." He growled.

She smiled and clasped her hands together.

"My father was initiated into the Templar order many years ago, roughly the same time you began training to be an assassin. You have to know, I did like you, you are a very attractive young man, but oh, so gullible. You thought I loved you." Elizabeth didn't look at him, instead, playing with a necklace. A Templar cross.

"But..." Thomas tried to understand what was happening.

"I was initiated into the Templar order shortly after my father and we quickly worked our way up the ranks, particularly since we had 'close' contacts with an assassin. And so, we heard of this Sage fellow, but, being so far away, we had no way of knowing who or what he is, wether he is fable or truth. So, I left you, knowing you would run away to the furthest known place, Havana, to track Duncan Walpole."

"How did you know I'd be there? How did you know I'd find out about the Sage while I was there?"

She grinned.

"Who do you think convinced Mister Walpole to head there? To ignore that particular sailor until he reached Havana? Then, you'd kill him, learn of the Sage and write back to me, still infatuated by me. And that letter did not disappoint. However, they didn't seem like your words...?"

"They weren't." Thomas bowed his head, remembering Jemima helping him to write that letter, speaking from the heart.

"Hm." She dismissed this and continued. "So, we received assassin information of the Sage, directly to the Templar order. How does it make you feel, knowing you sold out your friends? Your brothers and sisters?"

Thomas couldn't believe it. He _had_ betrayed them.

"And then, you returned, the Sage still alive. Why you spared him baffles me, but it benefits us, so I don't care. You still loved me and came back for me, settling down again in London. But, however, your usefulness is over. You should have stayed in the Bahamas, Thomas."

Elizabeth put a hand on the back of his chair and leaned towards him, her blue eyes dark with evil. The necklace dangled in front of him, the constant reminder of where her loyalty lies.

"Do you still love me, Thomas?" She asked, one hand stroking his cheek.

"How can I? You betrayed me!" He spat.

"You betrayed your Brotherhood, your friends. And they still love you. Or would they, if they knew?"

"I love you enough to spare your life. Walk out of here, don't look back and I will never see you again." Thomas whispered, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

"Oh, no, no, no." She tilted her head back and laughed. "Dear Thomas, I don't think you're in any position to make threats."

Thomas pulled his wrists free and struck her belly with his blade, the surprise alighting on Elizabeth's face more prominent than the expression of pain.

"Dear Elizabeth," he growled. "I don't think you're in any position to refuse."

She gasped, hands shaking as Thomas pulled out the blade, looking down at the gaping wound, blood staining her delicate pink dress.

"How could you?!" She cried, falling to her knees, hands drenched in her own blood.

"Quite easily." He said, standing. "I was ignorant when I betrayed my friends and I was ignorant when I loved you. You betrayed me for your own selfish gain and greed. I don't love you, Elizabeth, not anymore."

"Please, Thomas." With bloodstained hands, she pulled the necklace off and reached for his hands, pressing it into his palms. "Remember me."

Without a word, Thomas pocketed the gift, leaving the dying woman in the warehouse, not looking back as she cried out to anyone who would listen, her voice growing weak as the blood drained from her, along with her life.

"Elizabeth!"

Thomas stopped as the Templars surrounded him, Lovett standing in front of them, leading the charge.

The lone assassin stood strong, his wrist blades extended, still dripping with Elizabeth's blood.

Seeing it, Lovett cursed.

"You bastard!"

In fury, he turned to the other Templars, waving them forward. Some were soldiers, others were dressed as gentlemen but as equally dangerous.

"Kill him!"

The Templars took a step forward but white flashes cut them down, springing from the shadows. Wide eyed, Thomas' mouth hung open as a dozen assassins stood from the corpses.

Lovett turned and took a step back, fear striking him, knowing he was outnumbered. One assassin approached the last Templar, his face sombre as he punched his wrist blade through Lovett's heart. The Templar choked and fell to his knees. The assassin kicked him in the head, stepping over the dying man and towards Thomas.

He flicked his hood back and gave Thomas a grin.

"Hello, William."

Honestly, Thomas had never been so happy to see the boy.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've been following you for a while now and figured you'd need some help." He shrugged. "I got some people together."

Thomas nodded to the men and women, there for him in his time of need.

"All this time, while I've been alone, you've been watching me on the field missions?"

William nodded, grinning at Thomas' surprised face.

"You've come a long way, lad. You've learnt well. So, what now?" Thomas sighed, turning back to the still form inside the warehouse, lying in a pool of her own blood.

William smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's time you went home."

Thomas stood aboard the back of the ship as it slipped out of London. Whether he would see the city again, he didn't know. He wouldn't miss it, there was nothing left for him there now.

He and William had parted as friends, the boy now a fully capable assassin and would soon take Thomas' position. The number of Templars in London fell dramatically, either by death, or them fleeing the city, the assassins knew it would be a quiet couple of months.

Thomas watched the Thames rush along around the ship, feeling at home already just hearing the sound of the water.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Templar necklace, decorated in bloody fingerprints. Glancing to the water, he remembered the words of a dear friend. Indeed, below the surface, there were many dark memories, left behind by all those who had been hurt.

"I'm not going to remember you, Elizabeth." Thomas said aloud. "You hold no place in my heart anymore."

And with that, he threw the necklace, watching as it slipped into the river Thames and down below the surface, vanishing from sight.

Thomas left London, England behind to go home, back to the Bahamas, back to his friends and back to Jemima.


	48. 48 Time's Up

Jemima sat, he back against the wall, staring blankly out into the prison from her cell. Her belly was empty, too soon, her baby girl never drew breath.

She was just too small.

They took her away. They took her little girl away from her. She never even opened her eyes.

As the guards stepped towards the cell, Jemima didn't even blink, remaining still as ever.

"Come on, it's time." One said gruffly and then Jemima stirred.

"No... No!" She cried as Mary and Anne began shaking the bars.

"Leave her be!" Anne yelled. "Have you no mercy?!"

"That's not up to us." The other snapped back kicking the bars, causing Anne to fall back.

"Don't take her away!" Mary roared. "Not yet, not-"

She was cut off by a fit of coughs, slumping to her knees. As Jemima reached for her, she saw the beads of sweat on her brow.

"Mary!" Jemima breathed. "You've caught it! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be." She whispered. "But I'd hoped you'd be here to take care of me."

"Oh, Mary..."

The two young women held each other as Jemima was dragged out, kicking weakly. Since Anne and Mary's time was not yet up, they remained in the cells whereas Jemima left them, for an even worse fate.

"No, Jemima!" Anne cried.

"Anne! Mary!" Jemima wept as she was yanked away from them, staggering along the cold stone floor.

The drums thundered, their rumbling beats like thunder as Jemima stumbled into the light. She grimaced in the daylight and held up her shackled hands to block the glare. Her heart plunged as she matched the sound with the sight, her eyes now adjusted. A scaffold, decorated with a single noose stood before her.

"God, please, no." She whimpered.

"Move!" The soldier ordered, shoving her on.

With weak, trembling legs, Jemima stepped up the scaffold. She shook, tears streaming down her cheeks as the noose was drawn around her neck.

An announcer stepped forward, holding up a scroll.

"I hereby declare, that you, Jemima Thatch, now that your term is up, are accused of piracy and are therefore sentenced to death."

At the word 'death', she broke down, sobbing and shaking, unable to control herself.

And then, she heard his voice.

As soon as he feet touched the shore, he was running.

Thomas thundered on, heart leaping whether from anticipation or fear, he didn't know. He was so near to her. All he had to was free her, and they'd be together.

But that was easier said than done.

On reaching the outside of the prisons, he slowed, switching to Eagle Vision as he analysed the area in an attempt to find an escape route. But something caught his eye.

Thomas returned to his normal sight and stepped towards the roaring crowd, surrounding a scaffold.

He pushed through the crowd. His heart thudded with the beat of the drums as the figure came into sight. Her dishevelled form walked up the scaffold, trembling as she went, tears glistening on her face.

He reached the front of the spectators, just as the pirate woman had the rope pulled over her head.

The announcement struck him to the core, her fate decided by the law.

Well, it wasn't decided by him.

"Jemima!" He roared.

All eyes turned to him as he drew his pistol. As it fired, screams rang through the air, followed by the thundering of feet as panicked civilians bolted from the scene.

The rope snapped, the bullet soaring straight through. Jemima fell to her knees, weakly sagging, then collapsing on her side.

Soldiers drew their weapons, snarling orders to one another as they set upon the one man. Thomas fought with a vicious brutality, moving like a wild animal as he swung his cutlass, all the time seeing Jemima, lying there, still.

"Ah, just kill 'er now!" Ordered the captain as a brute drew his axe, thumping along the scaffold to the shivering young woman.

"No!" Thomas yelled and leapt up to protect her, blocking the axe with his sword.

The brute growled, pressing how weight down on the axe, but Thomas was strong. The brute gave in and stepped back, raising it again to take a other shot. As he swung his axe, Thomas rolled, slicing his back as he stood before spinning, sending his sword straight through another soldiers neck. Reinforcements were called, but none survived under the sword of the assassin.

Before the last body hit the floor, Thomas was by Jemima's side.

"Jemima! Wake up, come on!" He cried, gently shaking her.

As she grumbled, wincing at his touch, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," he whispered as he gathered her up in his arms.

Thomas turned to the sound of thundering feet, soldiers, more reinforcements arriving. Before they came into sight, he already had Jemima in his arms, running as fast as he could from the scene.

He cut through the crowd, shoving civilians out of his way as the torrent of soldiers chased after him. The market was bustling with people and while it slowed down the guards, it slowed Thomas's escape. He eventually burst from the other side, racing in any direction his feet decided to take him. As she heard his feet thump against the damp wood of the docks, Jemima wearily opened her eyes.

"Thomas..." She warned, the water getting ever closer.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled before jumping off the docks.

She screamed, her voice cut off by the choking sea. They let themselves sink for a moment, and Jemima found enough strength to silently shout at Thomas, bubbles floating to the surface. He gripped to the dock's structure as he made a motion for her to hold her breath and watched the shadows of the soldiers above them, inspecting the ripples on the water.

When the shadows gave up, Thomas put his arm around Jemima and pulled her up to the surface. He swam to a small boat and pushed her up onto it before dragging himself up. The dripping forms coughed and spat sea water, exhausted, collapsed on their backs, their chests heaving.

"You... You came back..." Jemima whispered.

"Aye. I wish we could have been reunited over better circumstances."

"Why? You have everything back in England."

"Not everything."

"What happened?"

"They'll be time for stories later, but now, we need to find Ah Tabai."

Jemima nodded and lay back in the boat as Thomas found the oars and began to row to the other shore. She shivered, but it was no longer from fear. He was with her now, she would never be afraid again.

As she gazed up at the cloudless sky, she smiled peacefully.

She was free.


	49. 49 Three Little Words

In the security of the Jamaican Brotherhoods hideout, Jemima recovered. Thomas stayed beside her for as long as he could, telling her what had happened while he had been in England, the Templar plot, Elizabeth's betrayal and the assassin victory. In return, Jemima told him of her exploits, assisted by Anne, Mary and Rackham, their capture and Kenway's arrest. Thomas was concerned to hear of each of his friends. Anne and Mary were sentenced to death, Mary being ill, Kenway had been captured while investigating the Observatory and no one had heard from Rackham since the arrest. Even more so, the pain struck him deep to learn of the death of his daughter, the daughter he never knew. She never even drew breath, he was told.

"Why did you come back?" Jemima asked him, her pale hand gripping his. "You could have gone anywhere, anywhere in the world. Why here?"

"Because you're here." Thomas smiled. "I love you, Jemima."

"Oh, Thomas." She slowly sat up, throwing her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I love you, too. I'm so happy you came back."

"I came back for you." He whispered, holding her tight.

"Am I disturbing something?" A voice said and the two pulled away.

Thomas stood and gave a nod of respect to Ah Tabai, the assassin Mentor.

"You are most welcome here, Thomas." He was told. "I have heard of your successes over in England, very highly commendable."

"Thank you, sir. Likewise, I've heard much about yourself."

"Indeed." He nodded and glanced to the bed-ridden woman. "So I see you've already started your rescue missions."

"Yes, I was just in the right place and the right time." Thomas replied, still so grateful that he had come back in time.

"I can see. You must understand that I couldn't carry out a rescue myself, with Anne and Mary still inside, they would set up extra precautions if and when I came back to save them."

"You never meant to rescue Jemima?" Thomas paused.

"No. I heard she was ill, and likely to die in prison. There was no assurance I could rescue her and save her life before she was hung. I had intended to rescue the three women just before their times were due, there would be little guards as not many like to hear the painful screams of a woman. Jemima's time came too soon and it was a risk I wasn't willing to take."

"You'd let her die to save Anne and Mary instead?!" Thomas burst, losing his respect for the man temporarily.

"Thomas, it's fine." Jemima said weakly. "If it's the loss of one life to save two, that's justified. And besides, Mary's an assassin, like you. Her life is worth ten of mine."

"Not to me." Thomas said, kneeling beside her.

"And you saved my life anyway. Now we just need to rescue Anne, Mary, Kenway and Rackham."

"Some may be more difficult to rescue than others. Rackham is not our priority and neither is Kenway but we could use one of them to help rescue the women." Ah Tabai decided.

"I'd rather see Kenway walking free than Rackham." Jemima said. "I've forgiven him for what he's done, mainly because he means so much to Anne, but I'm still a little bitter."

"Aye." Thomas agreed. "If we can, we'll rescue Kenway."

"Their time is near." Ah Tabai informed them. "Although I hear Mary is ill, so we will need to work quickly."

Jemima closed her eyes.

"It was my fault." She whispered. "I got sick and she tried to take care of me. In fact, I probably would have died in there if she hadn't been with me. But she caught it. Please, we need to help her. I promised I would."

"We will. As soon as you recover, we will leave." An Tabai said.

"So she is important after all?" Thomas said sarcastically.

"We need skilled fighters. And Jemima is just that. But if she is not well enough by the time we have to go, we leave without her." He said and stepped out of the door.

"Delightful man." Jemima said.

"Aye. But what he said rings of truth. You're a skilled fighter, love. And you're strong enough to recover in no time." Thomas smiled.

"Now that you're here, I'll have more strength than ever."

As Jemima slipped back into sleep, Thomas pulled up a chair and sat beside her. So much had happened in the past months. He had left Jemima but she had never left him. He still regretted doing so, more so everyday. He thought little of Elizabeth, the fond memories replaced by painful betrayal. And there was so much still to come. Rescues, reunions and starting again. Everything would be right again when all his friends were back together. He was sure of it.

Thomas returned to Jemima's room and paused at the door. She sat, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head bowed.

"Jemima?" He said, his voice soft, and she looked up.

"Oh. Hallo, Thomas." She gave a weak smile.

"How are you doing?"

"Good."

He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. He extended a hand, in an attempt to comfort her, but she flinched at his touch and he took his hand back.

"What's wrong?" He asked, noting her avoided gaze.

"Nothing." She whispered and closed her eyes.

"Jemima, don't lie to me. You know I love you-"

"But do you?" She turned, the skin around her eyes red and her lips dry.

"What? Of course I do!" Thomas was taken aback.

"You left for your life with Elizabeth, your true love. When that didn't work, you came back for me. I... I was your second choice." She said, her voice harsh. She had had a lot of time to think about this.

"Look, honestly, that's what I thought too. I thought that's where my life would play out, beside her. But I was wrong. I knew I was wrong the moment I left you. Please, don't doubt me when I tell you I love you more than I ever loved Elizabeth, that I thought of you more often than her."

"Then why didn't you come back to me?" Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes held tears ready to fall. "I would have travelled with you, you with me and our daughter might still be alive!"

Thomas took her shoulders and stared at her deeply into her dark eyes. Jemima stared back and knew that his eyes held no lies, no possible deceit. He loved her. He truly did.

"Jemima, I regret it every day that I left you, that our daughter is not in our arms but in the lap of God. But if I was beside you, what's to say I would be tried and executed like all the other pirates? I hear Rackham is to be sentenced to death. Who's to say that couldn't have been me if I was with you that day you were captured? Fate led me back here at the right time. I was there, at that scaffold, just at the moment I needed to, to save you." He gave a smile. "Our paths crossed five years ago and changed me far more than I ever thought anyone would. Our paths then parted and it was always meant to. Now, our paths are aligned and I promise I will never stray. I love you, Jemima. I loved you longer than you knew. Longer than_ I_ knew.

Tears fell from her eyes, but not because her heart pained, but because it nearly burst. She loved Thomas, for longer than he knew either, but her fear was always that it would go unrequited. Now, she knew for sure.

"Oh, Thomas." She wept and buried her head in his shoulder as he held her, and repeated the same three little words over and over until both forgot their pasts and all they had was the present.


	50. 50 The Rescue Mission

_Port Royal, Jamaica, August 1720_

Jemima soon healed, her fighting spirit keeping her on the earth. She constantly claimed it was Thomas' presence that kept her there, pulling her back to health. In no time, she was back to her normal self, good food and a warm bed being a great contrast to the prisons of Jamaica.

In the dead of night, Ah Tabai, Thomas and Jemima watched the outside of the prison from the dense shrubbery that surrounded it. A figure rocked about in a gibbet, attracting the attentions of the guards, unaware of the three forms hiding nearby.

"Hey!" Kenway yelled to the guards below, shaking the metal contraption that he stood in, trapped inside of it. "Open this gibbet!"

"Quiet!" The guards yelled back.

"Now." Ah Tabai ordered and Thomas sprung.

He snatched a soldier that patrolled nearby, slicing his neck open with his wrist blade before hiding him in the bushes. Thomas looked back and seeing that Kenway had caught sight of him, he silently signalled for him to keeping making noise, distracting the guards from the death of their colleagues.

"Oy! Stop that!" One of the guards yelled, facing Kenway again as Jemima plunged her blade through another's back, dragging him by his feet into the shrubbery.

The last two guards turned back around and noted their sudden loneliness. At the sound of a whistle, they turned, just as Ah Tabai dove into them, his wrist blades cutting into both their necks, pinning them to the ground.

"Good morning, Captain Kenway." He said from below, standing up from the corpses. "I have a gift for you."

Ah Tabai tossed up a key to which Kenway caught, swiftly unlocking himself from his prison.

"Do not mistake my purpose here." He told him as Jemima and Thomas approached them. "I have come for Anne and Mary, and you owe me nothing for this. But if you would lend me your aid, I can promise you safe passage from this place." At the promise, Kenway jumped down.

"I'll need weapons."

Ah Tabai passed over a pair of wrist blades that Kenway hurriedly strapped on.

"You are comfortable with these, I am told."

When done, Kenway looked up to see Jemima and Thomas, two people who he did not expect to see. He opened his mouth and raised a hand to question their presence, but Jemima waved him down.

"Not now. We'll tell you everything later, Edward. But now, you need to help Mary and Anne. We'll be out here, clearing the way for you."

"We must hurry." Ah Tabai insisted and Kenway nodded, the two racing away.

Thomas and Jemima scouted the area, taking down any soldiers that patrolled the area, focusing specifically on those that carried rifles, watching from atop scaffolding or a tower. After disarming the alarm bells nearby, the two headed down to the vacant shore and waited.

Two figures soon came into sight, that of Ah Tabai and Anne, her arm around him as she staggered along, face contorted in pain, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out.

"Anne!" Jemima rushed over to her and helped Ah Tabai rest her down in a small rowing boat pulled up on the shore.

"Oh, Jemima!" Anne tried a smile despite the pain to see her friend again. "You're safe!"

"Aye, thanks to Thomas. He rescued me." She waved to the assassin behind her.

"You're a good man, Thomas." She told him. "It does a wonder to my heart to see a woman that I thought to be dead, alive and well."

Jemima knelt beside her as Anne yelled out in pain, screams echoing around them in the darkness.

"I thought you had timed this so they would have their children out of prison?" Thomas asked Ah Tabai would stood on the other side of Anne.

"I thought I did too. Clearly, I made a mistake." He admitted.

"Anne, concentrate on me." Jemima told her, in an attempt to take her mind off the unbearable pain she experienced. "Tell me, how's Mary."

"Still sick." She panted. "She had her baby not too long ago. It was taken."

"A girl or a boy?"

"She wouldn't say. She kept so silent, I feared she was already gone."

"Poor soul."

"Oh, God!" Anne screamed, gripping Jemima's hand.

"You'll be fine, Anne, I know it, just... Just..." Jemima struggled for words. "Thomas! Can you see Kenway yet?"

"That damned man..." Anne chuckled between breaths. "He'll be out in a minute, Mary running beside. Just seeing him will make her better." She smiled, then her face contorted with pain and she screamed aloud again, squeezing Jemima's now pure white hand.

A figure did approach, jogging along, a second form in its arms. Thomas grinned and stepped forwards, finally, they were all out. Now, they just needed to get Mary to a doctor and-

Mary wasn't moving. In Kenway's arms, she lay there, limp.

"Jemima..." Thomas breathed and she stood, passing Anne's hand to Ah Tabai.

Jemima turned and followed Thomas' unblinking gaze at the approaching forms.

"Edward! Mary!" She called, smiling. Then, like Thomas, reality dawned on her.

"Mary?"

"What's happened to Mary?" Anne demanded, hearing Jemima's concerned voice as Kenway reached them. "What's wrong?"

"Is she gone?" Ah Tabai spoke, seeing the figure that didn't stir.

Kenway said nothing and rested her down gently in the boat.

"Oh... Oh, no." Jemima buried her head in Thomas' chest and began to sob.

He bowed his head, holding her to him as she shook in grief.

"Oh, no..." Anne repeated, staring at the unmoving form. "Oh, God!" She cried out again with another contraction as Kenway began to pace the shore.

"What will you do now?" Ah Tabai asked.

"Nothing sensible." He replied.

From behind Anne, Ah Tabai picked up a bundle of clothes and stepped up to Kenway, holding it out before him.

"You haven't earned these, but they suit you." He said, passing the assassin uniform over.

Kenway took them, gratefully and gave the Assassin Mentor a smile.

"Good fortune to you, Edward Kenway."

As Ah Tabai pushed the rowboat out, Jemima gave Anne's hand one last squeeze of reassurance before they parted. Thomas put an arm around Jemima for comfort and they watched the boat disappear through the night. They had lost one great friend, her absence like a black hole tearing through their lives.

Thomas bent down, extending his wrist blade. In the sand, he drew the assassin's symbol and below it, Jemima added two names.

"James Kidd, Mary Read." She whispered. "You'll be missed."

They stood and hand in hand, they walked away, the promising sun rising behind them.


	51. 51 Empty Inside

The second Spanish assault had taken its toll on the assassins. Wounded, they staggered about, faces contorted in anguish and pain as they clutched their wounds. They had won, but at a cost.

While Thomas and Jemima had fought beside the assassins on the shore, Kenway had swam out to a nearby ship where the commanding captain watched safely from a distance. As Kenway dealt the killing blow, the Spaniards had no choice but to flee. By then, enough damage had been done but not as much as it could have been.

"(You have strength and spirit). And once more you have our thanks, Edward." Adé Tabai smiled and nodded as the pirate approached. "You are welcome here."

"Thank you, sir. I'll rest here a time before setting out, if I may." Kenway replied as Thomas joined him, nursing a bruised arm.

"As are you, Thomas." Ah Tabai continued. "Are you planning on remaining with the assassins here?"

"Aye, soon. But first, I'd like to travel a bit. I'm not ready to settle just yet."

"I understand. You must have missed the sea while you were in England."

"Among other things." Thomas glanced up to the two women that sat side by side, holding each other's hands.

With hushed voices, Kenway continued, turning in the same direction as Thomas. "How's her child?"

Ah Tabai shook his head and followed Kenway's gaze.

"She is a strong woman, but not invincible."

Anne had stopped crying a long time ago. After Mary and Rackham's deaths, it seemed she didn't have much more tears to give. Resting her head on Jemima's shoulder, she sighed. Both women mourned the loss of their children and despite never knowing them, never seeing them grow up, they felt that burning anguish in their hearts, constantly reminding them of that absence in their lives.

As a shadow fell over the two, they looked up.

"Edward..." Anne's voice was weary, and Kenway could hear the pain behind her voice as he stood beside her, his back against the tree.

Thomas sat down on the other side of Jemima and let her head rest against his chest.

"I'm sorry for your losses." Kenway said to both women and Anne closed her eyes, squeezing Jemima's hand.

"If I'd stayed in prison, they'd have taken him away from me." She whispered. "But he'd now be alive. Might be this is God's way of saying I'm not fit-" She paused and turned to Jemima. "We're not fit to be mothers yet. Carrying on like we do, cursing and drinking and fighting."

"You are fighters, aye." Edward gave a smile and crouched down in front of them. "In prison, I hears stories of the infamous Anne Bonny, Jemima Thatch and Mary Read, taking on the King's Navy, just the three of you."

"It's all true." Jemima confirmed and Thomas smiled, imagining the fearsome pirate women, proving to the world that a woman could be just as brutal as a man, if not, more so.

Anne gave a wistful, absent smile. "And we'd have won that day if Jack and his lads weren't passed out in the hold from drink." As Kenway sat beside her, Anne felt tears rise. "Edward... Everyone's gone, aren't they? Mary, Rackham, Thatch. And all the rest."

"I heard Bonnet passed as well." Thomas spoke up and while neither women knew who he was talking about, Kenway nodded mournfully.

"Aye. He begged not to be hung. Didn't do much for him."

"He was a good man."

The two men paused for a while, remembering the very beginning of their adventure where they had met each other as well as this timid, excitable merchant. Inspired by the sights of Nassau and Havana, Bonnet had set out for a life of piracy of his own, this cowering merchant moulding into another fearsome pirate. However, death met him too soon and, like many men, he wasn't quite ready.

Anne sighed, breaking the reminiscent silence.

"I miss them so, rough as they were. Do you feel that too? All empty inside like?"

"I do." Kenway admitted. "Devil curse me, I do."

Anne took his hand, as if to reassure him that despite what he felt, there were others feeling the same way. He wasn't alone.


	52. 52 Just Another Chapter

_Île À Vache, May 1721_

Thomas and Jemima sat at the back of the ship, both blissful in each other's company, surrounded by the sea. Gulls cried above them, their shrill calls caught up in the gentle wind of the bright day.

"Will you stay with us long, Thomas?" Jemima asked perched on the edge, her feet dangling above the water. "Or does your assassin life call you elsewhere?"

"I'll not leave you, Jemima." He promised her. "Not again. Anywhere I go, I want you to be beside me."

He kissed her gently and she smiled.

"I'd like that. But can I follow you everywhere? I'm not an assassin, like you."

"Have you ever thought about becoming one?" He asked. "You're more than capable, you've already got the skill and power to do it."

"I've not considered it. I mean, I've grown up as a farm girl and then a pirate and if my life can take such a turn there, then why not down a more honourable course?" Jemima thought aloud.

"Whatever you decide, I'll be right beside you." Thomas promised.

"Well, if it isn't our two love birds." Anne said, approaching them as Jemima shifted in her seat, kicking her legs back over and standing up.

"Hallo Anne." Jemima grinned, pleased to see her friend back to normal, almost healed from all the hurt. "I see you're getting back into your hollering habits now that you're back aboard a ship."

"Aye." She nodded. "You and Mary both taught me well."

"Quatermaster!" Kenway called and Anne turned. "What's our present course?"

"Due west, Captain." She informed him as he took the wheel. "If it's still Kingston we're sailing for."

"It is indeed, Miss Bonny. Call it out."

"Weigh anchor and let fall the courses, lads!" Anne bellowed. "We're sailing for Jamaica!"

Jemima stood behind her and patted her shoulder before following Thomas down to help the crew.

"Mary would be proud." She smiled and Anne took her hand and nodded in agreement.

As the ship pulled out and glided through the Bahamas sea, Thomas climbed up the rigging and leant out, breathing in the warm, salty air. The wind tussled his hair and the cries of the birds of the sea played in his ears. He remembered how his adventure began, as if it were the same wind that whipped by, the same birds that called above them. That adventure had changed his life forever but he felt that the story was ending, his adventure coming to a close.

"You alright?" Jemima said as she swung up to him, almost lazily hanging from the rigging.

"Aye. Why wouldn't I be?" He smiled, kissing her. "I've got you. I'm more than alright."

"Good." She grinned and tugged at his collar before swinging back down to deck.

Thomas watched the pirate land, boots thumping down heavily before she stood straight. She tilted her head back, her face nearly obscured by her hat and long, black hair, but he could still see that mischievous grin. Then, Jemima walked on, waving for the crew to change to full sail, practically strutting along the deck.

As he watched the woman he loved below, he reconsidered what he first thought. Maybe, just maybe, his adventure, his story wasn't over.

Maybe, it was just another chapter.


	53. 53 The Legendary Ship

So, I was asked to a chapter on one of the legendary ships and while I'd usually stick to the story, I thought it'd be a great excuse to go into more detail on the ship fights and boarding and tbh I had a lot of fun writing it, so thanks for the suggestion! As this is an added, unexpected chapter, the total chapters have gone up to 57 (can you guys hold out that long?!) but I may not upload the epilogue til I've played rogue since I wanted to integrate my characters here to new characters in an upcoming rogue story, so I'll try and get that out soon! Thanks so much for all you lovely people who've taken the time to read my stories and said how much you enjoy it, it makes all my writing worthwhile! You guys are great!

* * *

><p>The Jackdaw sailed through the water, slicing along the sea as the ship in the distance grew bigger. El Impoluto was a magnificent vessel, with a mighty ramming strength and more guns than Jemima could count, she swallowed, knowing this would be quite the match. It's white sails billowed in the wind, pulling the ship along and the lion rampants decorating it were a foreboding blood red. There was little light, only the smudge of grey of the moon behind the clouds illuminated the scene, but they could still see clear enough to tell that El Impoluto drew nearer at an alarming rate.<p>

"What's she doing?" Jemima said, narrowing her eyes.

"She's coming straight at us!" Thomas exclaimed. "Damn it, we were meant to take her by surprise!" He turned his head to the captain. "Kenway!"

Kenway gave Thomas a brief nod, before calling out the orders for mortar fire. The crew watched as the shots whistled through the air before crashing down into the vessel with a deafening rumble echoing about.

With Anne at his side, Kenway powered on, the Jackdaw barrelled right towards El Impoluto. The Jackdaw spat at the opposing ship, round shot thundering into their defences. Kenway called out, "BRACE!", and the crew bent their knees, gripping onto anything secure as El Impoluto sent a flurry of heavy shot of her own. The two ships crashed headlong into each other and Jemima squeezed her eyes shut as the ship jolted, throwing any crew member that didn't hold on into the writhing depths.

As the ships drew side by side, Kenway shouted the order for numerous amounts of heavy shot to be buried into El Impoluto's defences, wounding the great beast. Thomas ran to the guns and fired at any weak point that presented itself, breaking through the holes in her armour.

El Impoluto slid by in an attempt to escape, but Kenway brought the Jackdaw around, sending mortar fire after the fleeing vessel. They chased after the ship, all the while bringing mortar fire and heavy shot crashing into her. She was weakened and began to slow and the Jackdaw pulled alongside her once more, splintering the sides with further attacks.

Mortar fire thundered down upon them, cruelly tearing apart the deck. Thomas winced as he saw a sailor crushed beneath the onslaught, his scream cut short by the mortars that buried him. He glanced to Jemima, gripping to the rigging as the two ships battled on. Her eyes were shut but her face showed no sign of fear. A brave young woman.

The Jackdaw sent another set of heavy shot slicing into El Impoluto's body and the sides looked about ready to rupture. She was nearly beaten.

With a cheer from the crew, El Impoluto slowed and stopped, the vessel unable to go any further.

"Let's bring this brig around, lads!" Anne bellowed and the set about arming themselves, ready to board.

With a roar, the crew swung aboard El Impoluto, curses and threats rumbling around as the soldiers made an attempt to defend themselves from their attackers. It became clear very quickly who the main problems were. The soldiers could battle against the sailors without much of a hassle, their training had seen to that, but these four individuals made them fear for their lives.

Like devils they fought, two men and two women, the latter a strange sight upon the seas but they weren't about to start asking questions. Both men wore smart outfits with hoods dipping over their eyes to mask their faces while short blades, barely noticeable sliced from their wrists, swords twirling all the while. One woman had soft red hair, decorated with flowers, her chest prominent as she grinned, cutting down each man that was distracted by it. The other woman was as beautiful as the first, her hair as dark as night with a hat balanced on her head, threatening to fall off every time she spun to send a pistol shot through the belly of an unfortunate soldier. These were the four the soldiers feared.

Then, almost as quickly as they descended upon them, the pirates vanished. But the soldiers knew they were around, they knew they were being watched. Eyes burned into the back of their heads as, wide eyed and shaking, they searched the night, wishing they were gone for good. Wishing that they could survive another night.

The only sound was the heavy breath of fear before the breathing ceased altogether. The captain spun, the remaining soldiers following his gaze as the four pirates stood from the corpses, as if they had materialised from thin air. They gave a smile, a wicked smile and the soldiers swallowed, raising a shaking sword.

They burst forward, slamming into the soldiers, sending corpses to the floor and souls to the afterlife as their weapons slashed at any soldier that couldn't defend himself. With a wink, Thomas crouched and Jemima flung herself over him, rolling off his back as a pistol in each hand fired, taking down two soldiers that ran in an unfortunate direction.

Back to back, Anne and Jemima fought, their swords flashing in the moonlight, that light being the last thing many soldiers saw.

"Ready?" Jemima yelled above the clash of blades.

"Sure!" Anne replied.

Jemima spun, knocking her opponent to the ground before pinning his body to the deck with her sword. Without drawing it out, she linked arms with Anne and leaned forward as the Irishwoman kicked out, causing the soldiers around them to stumble or fall back. Letting go, Jemima snatched her sword, yanking it from the corpse and with Anne, finished off their adversaries.

In a battle of their own, Kenway barrelled forward, swords swinging as he ducked, kneeling as a figure burst into the flurry behind him. Thomas jumped, using Kenway's back as a springboard and flew through the air, the wrist blades catching the moonlight, before he slammed into two soldiers, pinning their necks to the decks. Kenway sprang up and plunged his sword into the nearest soldier but another leapt at him, sword and voice raised. Edward's sword was still firmly embedded in the soldier's belly and panic alighted on his face.

With a 'bang!' the soldier's skull erupted in bone and blood as he collapsed in front of Kenway. He glanced back, relief flooding him as Jemima lowered her pistol with a wink.

The four stepped away from the corpses and turned to the cowering captain, his face as pale as the moon that observed them, a sword hanging weakly in his hand as he quivered in his boots. They stepped forward and he stepped back, tripping over a body and falling to his back with a yell. Shaking, he scrambled back as they approached.

With a small cry, he realised that he had reached the back of the ship, that there was nowhere else to run to. The four towered over him and with a smile, Anne crouched and tilted her head to one side.

"Now, now, now..." She tutted, her voice playful. "What are we gonna do with you?"


	54. 54 Unfinished Business

The Jackdaw slowed as it neared land, but more so as the crew gazed at the shattered remains of the ship floating in the water. Some bodies floated, others had already sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Or perhaps, they were still sinking.

One of the crew yelled to Thomas, noticing one sailor lying, barely breathing on a piece of wreckage. On seeing him, Thomas gasped, as if he was looking at himself, back in that storm where he first met Kenway.

"Captain!" Jemima called, helping Thomas to haul in a stranded sailor. "Here's one still kicking!"

"Who did this?" Kenway asked the man, standing over him as he spat sea water, heaving for air.

"It were a large vessel." He managed. "The Royal Fortune."

"Roberts." Kenway said, turning to the assassin, the pirate and his quatermaster.

"Offered no quarter." He continued. "Didn't say nothing."

"No worries, we'll get you ship shape again." Anne smiled, helping him to his feet.

Kenway stepped up to the front of the ship, judging the distance between himself and the island.

"Are you going after him?" Thomas asked, stepping behind him.

"Aye. We have some unfinished business."

"I'll go with you."

"No, lad." Kenway turned. "I'd rather you wouldn't. This is my mess and I alone must fix it."

Thomas took a step back before Kenway dived.

"We'll be waiting."

Anne began to holler orders once more, Jemima taking the wheel as they took the Jackdaw around to the other side of the island. They kept out of sight, obscured by the large rocks that decorated the island but just noticeable enough for Kenway to find them.

They waited, hearing gun shot and the clash of blades above them.

"That damned man." Thomas growled under his breath, pacing up and down the helm as Jemima stared unblinking at the branch above her, waiting for Kenway to appear. "If he'd just shaken off some of his pride and let me join him, he wouldn't be going up against them all on his own."

"He knows what he's doing, Thomas." Anne said, looking up like Jemima. "He'll be fine, not to worry."

It was a great relief to them all when Kenway did appear. He flew off the jutting branch, diving into the water nearby and the Jackdaw was kicked into action.

"Alright, lads!" Anne bellowed. "Let's get those sails up and out, full speed ahead!"

Kenway clambered up the side of the ship, racing across deck to the helm. Jemima stepped out of the way for Kenway to take the wheel as Anne called out further instructions.

"Captain's aboard! Man all canvas! Let's move!"

The Jackdaw burst forward, chasing the Royal Fortune onwards. As the ship cut through two jutting mounds of rock, it crumbled behind it, creating an unbreakable barrier between them and the Jackdaw.

"The way's blocked!" Jemima yelled to Kenway above the crash of the water as rocks powered into it.

"We'll have to find another path!" Anne shouted and Kenway spun the wheel, heading for a clearer way to reach their target.

The ship cut and twisted through the water, threatening to crash into sand banks and random rocks that surrounded them. The Jackdaw fired mortar shot, the sound rumbling around them as it found its target. But the Royal Fortune was not without its weaponry and sent its own rain of fire down upon them, the crew clutching the sides of the ship to brace themselves.

Roberts' ship pulled in ahead but the Jackdaw was close behind. Shot after shot was fired in hopes of destroying their opponent, as they avoided the fire barrels that were tossed out in front of them. Every successful shot was met with a victorious cheer from the crew.

But they hadn't won yet.

The ships flew on, out into open waters and into a storm. The grey skies matched the grey waters, the thunder matching the rumble of mortar fire and heavy shot. It seemed that this ship battle was a storm of its own.

"Edward!" Anne yelled. "There's crosstrees on the horizon!"

"Flying British colours!" Thomas added, shielding his eyes from the torrent of rain as he recognised the ship's flags.

"There's Spanish ships there, Captain!" Jemima called out, pointing to nearby ships. "This'll be a mess if we don't hurry!"

The Jackdaw powered on, bracing under the enemy fire, still thundering after Roberts. They had broken his defences enough, the Royal Fortune was weak, and with one last roar of heavy shot, the ship stopped, completely destroyed.

"Shall we sink his ship, Captain?" Anne asked Kenway. "We've a better than even chance!"

"No." Kenway shook his head and turned the wheel, bringing the ship around to board Roberts'. "There's a device with him that needs taking. I'll have to board her myself."

The ship's were now side by side and Kenway was the first to leap aboard, his three closest friends in his wake. They roared curses and threats as they flew onto the Royal Fortune, a rather apt name now that it was under attack. Any man that stood before Kenway, Anne, Jemima and Thomas fell, before even learning of the great legends that cut then down.

Jemima turned and saw Kenway standing over Roberts. The battle raged on around them, but these two seemed oblivious to it. Roberts passed up an obscure looking thing, a shiny skull it looked like. Then, his head thumped back against the deck and Kenway lifted up the body and carried it away.

She turned back at the sound of triumphant cheer. The surviving crew of the Royal Fortune fell to their knees and the Jackdaw's crew waved their swords and cutlasses in victory.

"We did it!" Thomas laughed jogging down the deck to her.

"Did we have any doubts?" She grinned, hugging him as he pulled her into his arms. As she stepped back, she turned to where she'd last seen Kenway, the body of Bartholomew Roberts over his shoulder. "By the way, where's Kenway off to?"

Thomas glanced up.

"To take care of unfinished business."


	55. 55 The Observatory

"Have you given the path of an assassin any more thought?" Thomas asked Jemima as she stood beside Anne and Rhona, a Scottish assassin, sharing the same tattoo on her chest as Mary.

"I've thought about it, aye." Jemima replied, pouring over the maps and charts on the Bureau table.

"And?"

"My heart hasn't decided yet." She said, standing up to face him. "But you know I'll follow you whatever path I decide to take. My heart has decided on one thing. My path will always lie with you."

He smiled and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Let me know when you do decide."

"I promise."

As Kenway approached, the four turned to face him.

"We got word Torres left the city." Rhona said, stepping from the charts on the table and towards Kenway. "Who were you chasing?"

"That vial was labelled Torres but held the blood of his second." Kenway growled, storming over to the two assassins and the two pirates, snatching up the skull. "Where's he gone?"

"Left port this morning, heading west along the coast." Rhona told him.

"The Observatory." He breathed.

"Will we follow?" Jemima asked, the excitement beginning to grow at the chance to see this mysterious place.

"Send word to Ah Tabai." Kenway told them as he left the Bureau. "We've cornered our man."

"What's this Torres doing looking for the Observatory when you're holding the treasure yourself?" Anne asked as the Jackdaw glided on through the waters.

"Torres doesn't know I have it." He replied.

"So why bring it to him and risk it's capture?" She further questioned.

"I'd like him to know I have it, just before he dies." A dangerous smile played across the captain's face.

"Be careful, Edward." Jemima said. "Don't be so arrogant as to think you can walk up to the man, hold it out before him and put a bullet between his eyes. That's not how these stories go."

"Ah, you doubt me, lass." Kenway sighed. "Since that's how I intend my story to go."

"And you think you can control it?"

"Are we not the authors of our own stories? Don't we decide the ending and where our chapters open and close?"

Jemima paused. She turned and looked down the ship to where Thomas jogged about with the crew, securing the rigging and changing the sail at Anne's command. Maybe Kenway was right. Her life was a story and a new chapter began when she met Thomas. She felt it close when he left, in fact, she felt the whole book ending. But his return brought that story back to life and the tale continued.

"That may be, aye." She said, smiling.

Suddenly, Anne called out, sighting ships ahead of them, obscuring their way.

"Edward, there's a fleet blocking the cove we want!"

"Aye." He nodded, narrowing his eyes. "The Armada. That's Torres and his men."

"And you're going to do what exactly?" Anne raised an eyebrow.

"Find our way past them." He said with a grin and she rolled her eyes, knowing his answer included the essence of force.

The Jackdaw sped up, ramming into the Man O' War nearby. Pulling along side it, they sent torrents of heavy fire into it, the ship so caught off guard it barely had enough time to call the crew to its defence before the Jackdaw pummelled into it once more, turning the ship into a shell of floating wreckage.

As it sunk beneath the waves, the Jackdaw continued its course, pulling up to the shore now its way was clear.

"Who's this Torres?" Anne asked as the Jackdaw halted. "And what's your man done to earn a death sentence?"

"He's a Templar." Thomas told her, folding his arms, a look of disgust on his face at the mere thought of them.

"Aye, like Rogers and Hornigold." Kenway nodded, stepping away from the wheel. "Men cooking up schemes to use the Observatory for ill purposes. For power and control." The four of them stepped down onto the deck and the captain held out the treasured skull. "The violence he'd cause with this thing would be subtle, but heavy. Deadly, yet leaving no mark. Does that make sense?"

Anne turned and thought for a moment.

"Like, if there was a drought, and people was thirsty, and one man had a large cask of water but gave a sip to none. He'd be a killer with no blood on his hands."

"Aye, like that." Kenway nodded in agreement.

"Fair enough."

The four of them stood on the edge of the Jackdaw and dived into the waters below. Mist surrounded them and the uneasy feeling that Jemima had felt a while ago, just before her, Mary, Anne and Rackham were captured, returned to her.

"Lord, there's a bit of a chill, isn't there?" Anne said as she swam through the unusually cold waters.

"Aye. I don't like it." Jemima replied. "Not one bit."

They clambered up onto the vacant land, silence echoing around them.

"Hm." Thomas frowned. "Thought we might see some soldiers and the like. Maybe they've gone?"

"No. They're here." Kenway said. "Deep in the jungle."

They rushed along the shore, ducking into the dense foliage of the jungle, distant animal cries ringing around them. Jemima wasn't sure what she preferred. Eerie silence, or eerie animal cries.

"Soldiers, just there!" Anne hissed, spotting a light of a camp below. "What should we do?"

As an answer, Kenway rushed forward but as they neared the figures, they realised they weren't moving. They weren't breathing either.

"Jaysus, look at all this!" Jemima breathed, staring at the lifeless forms that decorated the jungle. "Corpses for miles."

"They brought every ounce of menace they had." Kenway said, running on.

They continued on, cutting through the jungle by rushing across the trodden path or swinging through the canopy above, jumping across platforms and poles that stuck out in helpful places. As they stepped out of the jungle, to the other shore, the air was filled with smoke, the sky red as fire crackled around them, leaving traces of where Torres had been.

Kenway and Thomas rushed forward, striking down the soldiers that stood over the native guardians, muskets to their heads. Once dead, the natives were freed and raced away, leaving the four to continue their search for the observation room. Close behind the captain, they followed Kenway through a cave, wading through its murky waters before they climbed to a higher point, rescuing as many natives as they could as they went.

"That damned Torres!" Kenway growled, watching another two natives run free. "Why can't he leave this land in peace? Why does he feel the need to execute those who are only trying to defend the place they call home?"

"He's a Templar, what do you expect." Thomas said as the four approached a clearing, a stone floor decorating the small piece of land, surrounded by a river.

"It's all so strange." Anne whispered, looking around. "What is it?"

"It doesn't seem real." Jemima added. "As if it was something taken from a dream."

The jungle soon faded away, and the four reached as strange structure, grey, perfectly cut blocks scattered around it.

"Holy mother of God." Anne breathed, hardly believing what she saw. "Is this the place we've come to see?"

"This is the Observatory?" Jemima asked, curious at the sight. She imagined it so differently as to what stood before her now.

As Kenway reached the entrance, he turned and waved the three to stop.

"Stand watch here and let none follow." He ordered.

"We can't follow you?" Jemima asked, disappointed, desperate to see what secrets it held inside.

"Not yet. It's too dangerous. You'll know when it's safe to follow." He told her and raced on into the darkness.

"Dammit, Kenway!" Jemima shouted after him.

"Hush, lass." Anne put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll see everything you need to soon enough. Have patience."

Jemima nodded and sighed.

"I wish my father was here." She whispered and Thomas put an arm around her. "I promised him he'd see all that the Observatory had to hide from the world and he never lived to see it."

"How do you know he never saw it? Wherever he is now, he's learning of all the secrets that his earthly body couldn't allow. I think he's beat you to it." Thomas kissed Jemima on the cheek and she smiled.

"Maybe you're right."

As two figures approached, the three drew their weapons but lowered them when they recognised the forms of Adé and Ah Tabai stepping towards them.

"Where's Kenway?" Adé asked, looking around for the captain.

Anne turned her head towards the Observatory and he nodded in understanding.

"And we're not to follow I'm guessing?"

"Aye, but we'll know when she should." Jemima told him and the five of them waited for any signs to tell them it was safe for them enter.

Suddenly, there was a loud rumble, shaking the ground beneath their feet, and then it all fell silent. Ah Tabai turned to the Observatory's entrance.

"Now we follow." He said and he led on.

Jemima gasped as she looked around the place, the strange walls looking like things she'd never seen before, far from the extent of her vast imagination.

"Is this what you'd thought it'd be like?" Thomas asked her.

"No." She grinned and held his hand. "It's better."

"Torres awakened something fierce!" Kenway called as the five approached him. "Are we safe?"

"With the device returned, I believe so." Ah Tabai said, holding up the skull.

"What d'ye call this place?" Anne asked, gazing at the scenery, just like the others.

"Captain Kenway's Folly." Adé replied, grinning at the man.

Ah Tabai approached a set of huge gold rings and placed the skull in the centre.

"(Quiet now. Go back to sleep.)" He said, in a language none were familiar with. "We will seal this place and discard the key. Until another Sage appears, this door will remain locked."

"There were vials when I came here last." Kenway remarked, noticing their absence. "Filled with the blood of ancient men, Roberts said. But they're gone now."

"Then it's up to us to recover them." Ah Tabai told him. "Before the Templars catch wind of this. You could join us in that cause."

"I will." Kenway nodded. "But... Only after I fix what I mangled back home."

The Mentor and Adé exchanged a look before Ah Tabai reached into his pocket and handed Kenway a letter.

"It arrived last week."

They fell silent as he opened the letter, his eyes darting across the page as his face fell. With a mournful expression, he looked up.

"Kenway, what wrong?" Jemima asked, stepping forward.

"Is it news from your wife back home?" Thomas added.

"Aye." Kenway nodded. "I... I have a daughter. A little girl."

"That's wonderful!" Jemima laughed. "Tell us, what's her name?"

"Jennifer. Jenny Scott Kenway." He played the name around his tongue, a faint smile on his face.

"Why the gloomy look, Edward?" Anne asked, noting his expression.

He turned to them and Jemima's laugh faded into silence as he spoke.

"Caroline. My Caroline." He whispered. "She's dead."


	56. 56 The Parting Glass

This isn't the last chapter, just one more to go, but I'll most likely be uploading it much later on, just so I can make sure it'll make sense if any references to Rogue are included (haven't played it yet!) So, enjoy the penultimate chapter and thank you so much to everyone who's left a review or a message to let me know how much you enjoy it, it really makes my day! You guys are the best!

* * *

><p><em>Great Inagua, October 1722<em>

In the late afternoon, Thomas and Jemima sat in the tavern, surrounded by sailors, the warm wind and pleasant weather a sign of good fortune and peace that settled over them. Jemima rested her head on Thomas' shoulder and gave a contented sigh, filled with comfort. Thomas had his arm around her, feeling like she was a missing puzzle piece that was always meant to be a part of him. Now she was here, he was complete.

They said little, blissful in each other's company as they listened to the yammerings of the sailors around them, an amused smile alighting on their lips when they both heard something funny. Anne stood beside them, in conversation with another sailor, but their sound soon faded to nothing as the pair became cut off from the others and it were as if they lived in their own perfect world.

"Evening." Kenway said, approaching them, jolting the two back to reality.

Anne turned from her conversation with the sailor, and taking his cue, the man left.

"Edward." Anne greeted and the two sat down beside Thomas and Jemima.

"I'll be sailing for London in the next few months." He said, pouring himself a drink. "Are there any of you who wish to join me?"

"London's not the best place for me to be right now." Thomas said, the dark past suppressed back in England. He was free from that here. "Maybe I'll return to England one day, to visit. But not now."

Kenway nodded.

"I'd like that. Come and see me as a middle aged, upper class gentleman. And I'd like to see you as a husband, starting a family."

Thomas and Jemima grinned.

"Aye. We'll do just that."

With a smile, Edward turned to Anne.

"I'd be a hopeful man if you were beside me."

She gave a laugh and bowed her head.

"England's the wrong way 'round the globe for an Irishwoman." She told him.

Again, he nodded, figuring he would be travelling alone. He glanced from Anne to Jemima.

"Will you stay with the assassins?"

Jemima made a face, as if pondering the idea, unknown to Kenway that she'd given the idea much thought already.

"I am, aye." She smiled as her love took her hand. "It's time I hung up my cutlass in exchange for a second wrist blade."

"And you would exchange your hat for a hood?" Edward grinned at her mournful expression at the thought of it.

Jemima turned to Thomas.

"How strict are they with the choice of clothing?" She asked and he laughed.

"I think a hood would suit you better." He said and took off her hat, placing it on the table as he ran a hand through her jet black hair, kissing her.

Kenway smiled at the sight of them.

"And what about you, Anne?"

"No." She shook her head. "I haven't that kind of conviction in my heart. You?"

"In time, aye... When my mind is settled and my blood is cooled."

"Sail ho!" A voice called out. "Coming into the cove!"

As the British colours came into sight, Edward stood and took a step forward. He felt the pressure of the future on his chest, but also the uplifting joy it would bring. Anne joined him and put a hand on his arm.

"You're a good man, Edward." She smiled. "And if you learn to keep settled in one place for more than a week, you'll make a fine father too."

Anne stepped back and turned to the table. She took Jemima's hand and pulled her to her feet. With a grin, she signalled for a sailor to pick up his instrument.

"Come on, lass. It's time for a song."

Jemima glanced back to Thomas who nodded, and with a smile, waved the two women on.

"Of all the money that e'er I had,

I spent it in good company,

And all the harm that e'er I've done,

Alas it was to none but me."

As the sailor began to strum on his guitar, Thomas stood and joined Kenway as he looked out at the other men around him. Maybe he saw the same thing that Thomas saw, but he smiled at the sight of it. Men and women, dead and gone, sat before them, not arguing, just happy in one another's company. With drinks by their hands, they watched Anne and Jemima sing, a smile on their face, as bright and bold as if they truly were sitting there. Thomas nodded to each of them, whether they were an ally or foe, a dear friend or someone he was yet to meet, as he recalled each of their names. Stede Bonnet, Benjamin Hornigold, Charles Vane, Mary Read, Jack Rackham, Edward Thatch and upon his knee, the small, gentle child, with thick black hair that she shared with her mother and her grandfather. His daughter gave a beautiful smile as she tugged at her grandfather's beard and Thatch chuckled because of it.

Thomas turned away from the vision and took his love's hand. Anne nodded an understanding as he led her away from the tavern and followed Kenway. They watched him pluck flowers from the side of the path before stepping down to the docks as the ship pulled in. From a distance, they watched the young girl, Jennifer Scott Kenway, step down the gangplank and up to her father. He knelt down, passing her the flower as she graciously took them, a doll clutched in her other hand.

"One day, we'll have a child as beautiful as her." Thomas smiled, his arms wrapped around her.

"Even if it's a boy?"

"Even if it's a boy. We'll have a beautiful little boy." He said and Jemima grinned at the thought of it.

"Aye. One day."

Anne's voice carried through the island and as they watched their friend walk along the shore before boarding his own ship, the mighty Jackdaw, his daughter's hand nearly lost in his. Jemima sighed, blissful in her love's arms, now that all the harm and darkness had drawn to a close. Their fingers intertwined, their hands rested on Jemima's belly as if to hold their future child, not yet born.

"I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,

Goodnight and joy be with you all." She sang and for the last line, Thomas joined her, the three voices giving Edward Kenway a final farewell.

"Goodnight and joy be with you all."


End file.
